


Chimaera Part 2

by ArthurFloppit



Series: Chimaera [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 19:18:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15541194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthurFloppit/pseuds/ArthurFloppit





	1. Chapter 1

  
Thursday 28h May 1998

In which Chris Rennard discusses various  
matters with Kate Pemberly and Paul Banks

    It was close to ten o’clock in the morning when Chris Rennard, curator of Steyning Museum, cycled down the High Street of that small market town in West Sussex and turned left into Church Street. Further down on his right, scaffolding obscured the timber-framed building which was part of Steyning Grammar School, its stone-clad roof damaged in a recent storm. On his left he passed the Model Bakery, so essential to the Museum for the supply of buns and sandwiches. The former were the particular favourites of Kate Pemberly who, along with Paul Banks, came in to help on Thursdays when the Museum was closed to the public. The sandwiches Chris bought for his lunch.  
     Passing Saxon Cottage on his left, Chris dismounted at the top of Church Lane, a short slope that led down to that part of the town known as Shooting Field. At some point during the previous Sunday night, a storm resulted in not just damage to buildings but to a large part of the town being flooded and Shooting Field, being low-lying, had been particularly badly affected. Steyning Grammar School had been closed owing to the fact that the senior school was situated on Shooting Field and the damage to the junior school roof in Church Street gave the Head, Mr. Erison, no option but to close the school.  
     What interested Chris particularly as he looked down Church Lane was the amount of water that still covered the area at the bottom of the hill. This was where before the floods a small stream flowed underneath the road, visible only through a metal grille on a patch of grass between the road and the pavement. Remounting, Chris continued on past the Library and turned right into a small car park that served Museum, Library and Steyning Grammar School staff. Beyond the car park lay the playground in front of Bennett’s, one of the school’s three boarding houses. Dismounting, Chris unlocked the door to the Museum, wheeled his bicycle into the foyer where he propped it up on its stand before disabling the alarm. He then pushed open the inner door and entered the Museum proper. Looking around anxiously for any sign of change and relieved to see that everything appeared to be as he had left it the day before, he made his way to the office.  
     Chris’s anxiety stemmed from the fact that a Saxon Skeleton known as ‘Steyning Man’ had mysteriously disappeared from the Museum one night towards the end of April. There had been no sign of a break-in and no one had seen or heard anything of it since: and there was something else, a sense of unease and foreboding he had felt at the time of Steyning Man’s disappearance and since. He had mentioned this to John Sayles, senior county archaeologist, when he had visited him in Chichester on the Thursday following the disappearance. The main purpose of the visit had been to show him some photographs of a grave slab in the porch of St. Andrew’s church, just across the road from the Museum. Kate Pemberly had remembered there was a snake design on it which she felt might be similar to those found by some of John’s team during an excavation up on Chanctonbury Ring, a Bronze and Iron Age fort on the South Downs, a mile or so to the west of Steyning. Chris had told John about the disappearance of Steyning Man and about his sense of unease, a feeling that something was happening, that the past was awakening. He had felt a great sense of relief when John had not said he was being stupid, that facts should be considered in their line of work and not feelings. He had remained silent, nodded sagely and they had then gone on to talk of other things.  
     Half an hour after Chris had entered the Museum, Kate Pemberly and Paul Banks turned up and found him, mug of black coffee in hand, staring intently at one of several maps showing Steyning through the ages.  
     “Morning Chris, what are you up to?”  
     “Morning Kate, morning Paul. You know, the one good thing to come out of this flood business is the insight it may give us into where St. Cuthman’s port was situated. Have a look at this.” Chris pointed to the map in front of him. “This is what we think Steyning may have looked like in the early Middle Ages. That’s where we think the Port might have been, just behind the church and on an arm of the River Adur. I had a look down Church Lane just now and although the flood waters have gone down across Shooting Field generally, they are still quite deep along Tanyard Lane and across into Gatewick Park which suggests some sort of channel may have been there.”  
     “Yes, I see what you mean.” Paul was peering at the map. “Remind me again, Chris, why did the port disappear in the later Middle Ages?”  
     “The main reason seems to be the silting up of the River Adur. This may have had something to do with movement of its mouth eastwards due to longshore drift. Water would not have been able to flow in and out so easily. As you know, the Adur is tidal and if there was less movement of water up and down the river, this may have caused silting up. Whatever the reason, by the middle of the 14th century, the port had virtually ceased to exist and Steyning declined in importance.”  
     “And now it’s been clobbered again!” This came from Kate.  
     “That’s true. It’s almost…”  
     “Almost what, Chris?”  
     “Nothing really. It’s just that…”  
     “It’s Steyning Man again, isn’t it?” Paul sounded gleeful, as though he had hit on something nobody else had thought about.  
     “Well … yes. I can’t help thinking something’s going on and I know it sounds daft but I wonder if this flood has something to do with it.”  
     “Hang on a moment Mr. Curator. Are you seriously suggesting that the disappearance of Steyning Man and this flood are somehow connected?”  
     “I don’t know, Kate. Of course it makes no sense at all, linking the disappearance of a Saxon Skeleton with weather conditions. It’s as silly as saying the storm down here in Steyning is connected with the various disasters happening up and down the country at the moment. Mind you, Salisbury and Worcester both experienced violent storms at much the same time and several buildings in Durham caught fire a few days ago.”  
     “I read about the Durham fire,” added Paul. “They thought it was due to a gas leak, didn’t they?”  
      “Yes, they did, but I sometimes wonder if when the authorities don’t know the cause of a fire or an explosion, they put it down to a gas leak.”  
     “I know what you mean but it’s odd that these three towns have been affected.” This came from Kate.  
     “Why? I mean it’s not just them, is it. Other places have suffered damage. A bridge collapsed somewhere in the West Country recently and power lines have been damaged all over the place.”  
     “That bridge was in Exeter, Paul.”  
      “Yes, and it just shows all this is pretty random.”  
     “Some of it looks that way, but Exeter, Salisbury, Worcester and Durham?”  
     “Like I say, all over the country - no connection.”  
     “They’re all cathedral towns.”  
     “That’s true, now you come to mention it; but what about power lines and bridges collapsing?”  
     “I know what you’re saying but I still think it’s a bit of a coincidence that four of our major cathedral cities have been damaged.”  
     “You know I hate to say it, Paul, but Kate may be on to something. Hang on.” Chris headed for the office and returned with a newspaper. He turned over a few pages before he found what he was looking for.  
     “It says here there was a fire in Canterbury Cathedral Close yesterday afternoon. Two houses were badly damaged. The blaze was quickly brought under control by the fire brigade. A spokesman for the Cathedral staff said a gas leak was a likely cause of the fire.” Chris looked up at his two friends. “Looks like someone has it in for the Church of England!”  
     “Yes, but what about all theses other things,” persisted Paul. “Targeting cathedrals is one thing but if you had it in for religion, would you also want to go and bring down power lines and destroy bridges all over the place?”  
     “That may simply be coincidental or maybe...” Kate looked at Paul and Chris conspiratorially, “…maybe whoever’s doing this is using these other disasters as a cover, trying to disguise the fact his main target is religion.”  
     “His, Kate? His? How do you know it’s not a woman causing all this trouble?”  
     “Come on, Paul. You know as well as I do that pretty well all the trouble in the world is caused by blokes - with the exception of you two, of course!”  
     "So kind but it’s still your turn for the bun-run!”  
     “You’re right, it is. Caramel doughnut, Chris?”  
     “That’d be lovely, thanks.”  
     “Paul?”  
     “Not for me; got to keep in trim. I’ll have a cup of tea, though. I’ll go and put the kettle on.”  
     “You do that and while you’re at it, would you get the scrapbooks out for me? Oh, and the pile of local papers I left in the back room. There may be articles on Steyning events to cut out.”  
     “No problem and talking of newspaper articles, I was shopping down in Shoreham earlier this morning and noticed there was something in the Shoreham Herald about a grave in a churchyard at Hangleton.”  
     “That’s where graves usually are.”  
     “Yes I know but in this case the vicar apparently knew nothing about it. It wasn’t a scheduled burial. The grave seems to have just appeared overnight.”  
     “That’s weird.”  
     “It is. Anyway, it’s a police matter now. They think a crime may have been committed and there might have to be an exhumation.”  
     “I wonder what they’ll find.”  
     “Don’t know but I can see the headlines: Large hole appears in local churchyard. The police are looking into it.”  
     “For Heaven’s sake, Paul!”  
     “Have you heard the one about…”  
     “No, and I don’t want to!”


	2. Chapter 2

  
Friday 29th May

In which Sally, Sam and Tom travel to  
Letchworth and talk with Sally’s parents

    “Come on in, come on in!” Mr Allbright, smiling broadly, opened the front door of the family home in Letchworth and stepped aside to allow Sally and her friends Sam and Tom to enter. He hugged his daughter, told her it was good to see her and then led them all through the house and into the garden where Sally’s mother was sitting in a deckchair. The sun was out and it was pleasantly warm.  
     “Sally, darling!” Mrs. Allbright made to get up but Sally hastened over to her and told her to stay where she was. She leaned over and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek.  
     “Hello Mum, you look well.”  
     “I feel fine.”  
     “Well…” Mr. Allbright was looking at Sam as he spoke. “We have of course met Tom at the station when Sally was last home but you must be the Sam Bolton we’ve heard so much about.” He shook Sam’s hand. “We’re very pleased to meet you. Do sit down, all of you, and I’ll go and get us some tea. Oh, and give me your plant, Sally, and I’ll put it up in your room. Don’t let your mother move! She must take it easy now that…well... she’s beginning to show. I believe that’s the expression!”  
     Sally didn’t say anything but nodded and, as her father headed for the back door of the house, looked anxiously at Sam and Tom. Both understood straight away what was going through her mind. Some weeks ago, around the middle of April, a tearful Sally had explained to her friends that she thought she’d been adopted. Initially, neither Sam nor Tom had believed her but a series of coincidences, if that is what they were, had left them with doubts and Tom, particularly, felt they could only be resolved by Sally confronting her parents. Sally had been unwilling to do this because she did not want to upset them, especially as her mother was pregnant. However, the flooding of Steyning, the closure of the school and the bringing forward of half term had all contributed to the two girls agreeing to Tom’s suggestion that they all visit Sally’s parents and lend whatever support might be necessary when the subject was broached. He and Sam then planned to go on Tom’s family home in Cambridge.  
     On top of the thorny issue of Sally’s possible adoption, there was something else that made the three of them glad to leave Steyning behind for a while. They had been involved in a series of events which even now they had difficulty accepting. It all started with Sam visiting Chanctonbury Ring towards the end of April and being found up there by Sally and Tom with an injury to her arm and no memory of how this had happened. All she could vaguely recall was an old man waving to her. A further visit by the three of them had revealed no clues as to what had happened but they had encountered a girl called Ginny who had twisted her ankle. They had persuaded her to accompany them back to Steyning and as they had been walking down Church Street, had been accosted by an elderly lady who introduced herself as Peggy Deys. Remarkably, she had recognised Ginny and explained, after they had entered Saxon Cottage where she lived, that she had been asked by Sally’s parents to keep an eye on her. When pressed on why this was necessary, the revelations had astounded them. Reluctantly at first, Peggy and Ginny told of a magical world about which Sam, Sally and Tom knew absolutely nothing. This had resulted in them meeting some of Ginny’s friends, hearing about recent troubles in what was essentially an alternative world, travelling to a place called Diagon Alley in London via Peggy’s chimney and rescuing an elderly man called Mr. Ollivander from a cavern under Chanctonbury Ring.  
     None of these extraordinary events were currently on their minds as they sat in the garden of Sally’s home in Letchworth, drinking tea, making small talk, discussing the floods in Steyning and the closure of the school. After half an hour had passed, and in the absence of either of the others saying anything, Tom felt the time had come to bring up the difficult subject of Sally’s possible adoption. He had been the most sceptical about it but had suggested this visit so, he reasoned, he should be the one to broach the subject and take responsibility for any fall-out that might result. When there was a lull in the conversation, he cleared his throat nervously.  
     “Erm...Mr. and Mrs. Allbright, there’s something…erm…” Tom paused and looked over at Sally who was staring pointedly at the ground. She didn’t look up but nodded and Tom took this as his cue to continue. “Erm…I…we...that is Sam and myself, think you should know that there’s been something bothering Sally for a while now, something we feel you should know about.” Tom looked at Mrs. Allbright. “Sally hasn’t said anything about it because she doesn’t want to upset you because you’re…well… having a baby and…” Tom tailed off looking and sounding confused. It was Sally’s mother who came to his rescue.  
     “Tom, there is no need to worry about me. Pregnancy is not an illness, you know! I’m fine and thanks for telling us.” She turned to Sally. “Darling, why didn’t you mention something was worrying you. Is it being away from home? Are you finding the work difficulty at a new school? Are some of the other students giving you a hard time? We don’t want you to be unhappy. Tell us what’s wrong.”  
     “No, it’s nothing like that, Mum. I like the school very much and the work’s going fine and…” Sally looked at Sam and Tom, “I’ve made some good friends, especially these two. They’ve been really great.”  
     “Well then, what is it?” This came from Mr. Allbright.  
     “Tom, Sam, would you mind…I can’t…could you tell Mum and Dad what this is all about?” Mr. and Mrs. Allbright exchanged a glance as Sally looked pleadingly at her friends. Tom reached over the table, squeezed her hand and nodded before continuing.  
     “In April when Sally came back to school after half term, she told us she’d been up at your local hospital and overheard the doctor and the receptionist talk about a first baby in relation to you, Mrs. Allbright. She thought, and Sam and I thought, she must have heard wrong and that they were both talking about somebody else, possibly someone with the same surname. We…er…actually visited a Mr Allbright in Hangleton and…”  
     “…Little Hangleton, Tom...remember?”  
     “Yeah, you’re right Sally. I stand corrected, as the man with the orthopaedic shoes said!”  
     “Tom, please!” Sam glared at him.  
     “Sorry.”  
     “Did you just say Little Hangleton?” This came from Mrs. Allbright and Sam and Tom immediately noticed a subtle change in the atmosphere. There was no sense of unfriendliness or anger or anything like that. Nor was there any attempt to deflect Tom from his self-appointed task.  
     “Yes, that’s right,” he continued. “This Mr. Allbright, spelt with two ‘ls’ like you, told us that he lived in that part of the old village known as Little Hangleton, to distinguish it from the newer part known simply as Hangleton. Anyway, he wasn’t able to help us but we offered to some flowers on the grave of his young son on our way home.” Tom paused and looked at Mr. Allbright. “By a strange coincidence, Sally noticed his date of birth was exactly the same as yours - and the name too, of course.”  
     “I see. And this is what’s bothering Sally, the fact that this dead child had the same name and date of birth as me?”  
     “Allbright with two ‘ls’ is not that common so we were wondering…”  
     “Tom, you’re getting off the subject and this isn’t helpful.” Sam turned to look at Sally’s parents. “What’s really bothering Sally is that she thinks she might be adopted.”  
     The unmentionable had finally been mentioned and Sally looked at her parents to gauge their reaction. They had not moved but looked at each other in what could have been puzzlement or something else. It was difficult to read their expressions to see the effect this news had on them.  
     “What on earth gave you that idea, Sally?” asked Mrs. Allbright.  
     “Like Tom mentioned just now, Mum, the day I came to the hospital with you. I overheard the doctor mentioning a first baby and then the receptionist was chatting just before you came back and said how exciting a first baby was. She also looked rather puzzled when you were booking another visit and mentioned Dad. If I was your daughter, then…well…it couldn’t have been a first baby, could it; and if it was your first baby then you wouldn’t have said ‘Dad’.”  
     “No, that’s certainly true unless we are talking about remarriage where a mother who has no children marries again, gets pregnant and, accompanied by her stepdaughter, goes to hospital just like we did; and the dad refers to a stepdad.”  
     “But that’s not the case in our family, is it?”  
     “No Sally, it isn’t!” Mr. Allbright sounded quite emphatic. “Neither your mother or I have been married before and you’re not our stepdaughter.”  
     “So…I’m not adopted then? I just misheard what the doctor and the receptionist said?”  
     “They might well have been talking about another family,” added Mrs. Allbright with another glance at her husband.  
     “So, they weren’t talking about our family?”  
     “I don’t know, darling. I wasn’t in your position, listening to these conversations.”  
     “Sorry to be persistent, Mrs. Allbright,” put in Sam, “but to be quite clear about this, when you first got to the hospital and went off with the doctor and Sally heard him mention a first baby to you, he was definitely talking about somebody else then, not you?”  
     “I…I don’t recall what he said precisely. It’s some time ago now…” Mrs. Allbright now looked and sounded flustered. She looked beseechingly at her husband who had stood up and was staring at the sky.  
     “It’s not as warm as it was. Shall we go inside?” He glanced at his wife. “We don’t want you getting cold, do we?”  
     “Dad, it’s not getting cold at all! Can you both just answer the question, please. Am I adopted or not?”  
     “Yes...no.” Both Sally’s parents spoke at exactly the same time and it was hard to tell who had said what. After this confusing pronouncement, nobody spoke and all that could be heard was the muted sound of traffic along the road in front of the house. It was Sally who broke the silence.  
     “Can I take that as a yes, then? That I’m adopted?”  
     “Sally.” Mrs. Allbright leaned over and took her daughter’s hand. “You are our daughter and always will be. We have always loved you as a daughter and always will but...”  
     “But...”  
     “But...yes...you are not our biological daughter.”  
     “So, I’m adopted.”  
     “Yes, but it’s not at all straightforward and very difficult to explain...and...” Mr. Allbright glanced at Sam and Tom. He was now looking distinctly uneasy, as was Mrs. Allbright.  
     “I don’t understand. Adoption is adoption. Two parents, usually because they have no children of their own, adopt a child that was born to two other parents. It seems quite straightforward to me!”  
     “Believe me, Sally, it’s more complicated than that,” said Mr. Allbright, “and that’s why we haven’t said anything to you before. It wasn’t an easy decision but we both felt it was best thing to do.”  
     “Why? Didn’t it cross your mind that I might want to know?” Sally had stood up and there were tears in her eyes. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t have said something! I’m nearly eighteen, not a child anymore!”  
     “Darling, please...” Mrs. Allbright reached out a hand to her daughter but Sally backed away and glared at her.  
     “I think you could have said something, I really do! Sam, Tom, I’m sorry, I...” Sally stood up, brushed past them and ran into the house and a short time later they all heard a door slam somewhere upstairs. Mr. and Mrs. Allbright stared after her and Sam and Tom didn’t know where to look or what to say. Tom felt especially bad as it was he who had brought up the subject in the first place, albeit with Sally’s tacit approval. He looked over at Sam for help and, to his immense relief, she gave him a look that said she had just thought of something and that he should leave it to her. She cleared her throat.  
     “Tom and I feel we ought to apologise to you both as it was we who brought up the subject and caused all this trouble.”  
     “No, Sam, you do not owe us anything.” This came from Mr. Allbright. “You have done us a favour, actually. Sooner or later we would have had to say something. Sally has a right to know although when I said it was complicated I...” He looked at his wife.        “We can’t, can we, I mean...” Mrs. Allbright shook her head and their reaction told Sam she was right in her reasoning. Not for the first time, Tom, looking at her as she spoke, felt something that went beyond admiration as she continued the conversation.  
     “I think we can understand the difficult situation you find yourselves in; and I’m not talking about Sally being adopted, I’m talking about the circumstances surrounding it. You’re worried about saying anything in front of two Muggles, aren’t you?”  
     “What? How on earth....” Mr. Allbright looked puzzled and then shocked as what Sam was suggesting sunk in.  
     “We know all about the war that’s just ended,” continued Sam, “and the death of Voldemort...”  
     “...whose real name was Tom Riddle.” Tom’s smug expression made a brief appearance. “We’ve even been up to Diagon Alley using Floo powder!”  
     “Diag ... but you can’t...it’s not allowed. This is all very irregular!” Like her husband, Mrs. Allbright looked and sounded quite shocked. “They go to great lengths to keep all this sort of thing secret. How come you both know so much?”  
     So, Sam and Tom explained their meeting with Ginny Weasley and all that followed. For good measure, they ended up by mentioning the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and how grateful he had been for their help. When they had finished, Mr. and Mrs. Albright fell silent but both Sam and Tom could see that along with confusion there was a sense of relief in the looks they gave each other.  
     “Well, this is all most extraordinary and you must tell us more but first I really should go and see how Sally is.” Mrs. Allbright squeezed her husband’s hand and he nodded. She levered herself ponderously out of the deckchair set off towards the house. As she approached the backdoor, however, it opened and Sally stood there with something in her hand and a puzzled expression on her face.  
     “Look what I’ve found,” she said.


	3. Chapter 3

  
Friday 29th May

In which some questions are answered and others posed

    Mr. and Mrs. Allbright, Sally, Sam and Tom were all seated around the dining room table, all thought of Sally’s adoption forgotten for the moment. They were staring at what was obviously a wand although had they not seen one in Saxon Cottage, Sam, Sally and Tom could have been forgiven for thinking it was simply an old stick. It was about fourteen inches long and tapered to what was almost a point at one end. At the other, thicker, end there was some carving but it was so worn away it was impossible to see what it had originally looked like. Sally explained that when she went up to her room, she had lain on her bed for a while and then when she had calmed down a bit, had gone over to the window to see what was happening in the garden. Reaching over the sill to open the window she had knocked over the plant her father had placed there. It had fallen on the floor, the flower pot had broken and the stick supporting the plant had become detached. She had picked it up and realised it was a wand.  
     “It looks very old.” Mrs. Allbright put out a hand and touched it tentatively. “Very old indeed, I would say.”  
     “It does,” added Mr. Allbright, “but it has been stuck in some earth and watered for many years. That would make it look older than it actually is. My guess is that Bathilda had a few old wands lying around and just used one she no longer needed or which was damaged in some way to prop up the plant. As you know, Sally, she gave you the plant when you were very young. It’s amazing it’s still alive after all this time. By the way, I’ve put it in a new pot, found an ordinary stick to keep it upright and given it some water. It should be alright.”  
     “Thanks, Dad. I’m sorry to have run off like that. And you too, Mum...sorry.”  
     “You had every right to be upset,” replied Mrs. Allbright emphatically, “and perhaps we should have explained things to you earlier, but as we said, it was complicated although less so now that we know Sam and Tom are so well informed about...things.”  
     “Things? What do you mean?”  
     “While you were up in your room, they explained how the three of you got involved with the ... what did you call it, Tom?”  
     “The Wizarding World.” Tom turned to Sally. “Your parents know all about us meeting up with Ginny and everything that happened after that. It’s all down to Sam really. She quite rightly guessed that what was bothering them was not just the adoption business but the fact that they might have to talk about things they couldn’t talk about in front of Sam and me. Remember how nervous Peggy and Ginny were about that?”  
     “I do, yeah. Thanks, Sam.”  
     “No sweat, as Tom would say!” They all laughed and this made Sally feel much better. She turned to her parents.  
     “Now that you can speak freely in front of Sam and Tom, can you tell me all about my adoption, please? Bathilda has something to do with it, I think; and don’t hold back because Sam and Tom are here. They’re my best friends and we share lots of stuff.”  
     “Right...” Mrs. Allbright paused for a moment and looked at each of them in turn before turning to her husband. “You tell her, Ben. Tell her everything, starting from the beginning.”  
     “What, even about our ... about us?”  
     “Yes. I think she needs to know the whole story so start with us.”  
     “You’re sure about this?”  
     “I am. Go on.”  
     “Right...so...er...Sally, the first thing you need to know is that Allbright is not our - my - real name. Your Mum’s is Allbright because we are married but her forename and maiden names are actually hers. She was Kathryn Butler before we were married. My names were chosen for me by Bathilda. I didn’t like the idea of this at first but after we adopted you and I wanted a fresh start in life, free from the persecution I and others like me suffer, I’m not bothered about it anymore.”  
     “Er…excuse me Mr. Allbright. This persecution you mention…does that mean...were you…are you a Squib?”  
     “Yes, Sam, that’s exactly it. You told us in the garden what Peggy had said about being one and how difficult and sometimes dangerous it is to be born into a magical family and yet be unable to perform magic, or at least be unable to perform it reliably and safely. After we adopted you, Sally, there was a double danger. Although Voldemort had disappeared after trying to kill Harry Potter, no one knew what was going on and whether he was still alive somewhere. Also, a number of his followers - they’re called Death Eaters but you probably know that - were still around and they, like their master, hated the likes of us. It was a frightening and dangerous time and we wanted, above all, for you to be safe. That was why I asked Bathilda to give me a new identity.”  
     “What about you, Mum?” Are you also a Squib?”  
     “Yes, I am, although before I married, I didn’t need to change my name as my parents had already done so, presumably with Bathilda’s help although I don’t know that for certain; and I don’t know their original names either and probably never will as they are both dead, as are your Dad’s.”  
     “What about me? Am I a Squib?”  
     “We honestly don’t know, do we Ben? You could be a Muggle or a Squib. We have always assumed you are not ‘magic’ as you have never shown any sign of being able to work magic and we never received a letter from Hogwarts offering you a place. The only person who might have been able to answer these questions was Bathilda.”  
         “Do you know who my real parents are?”  
         “No, we don’t,” replied Mr. Allbright. “Bathilda said it was best we didn’t know. I remember I told her that when you were older you would probably want to know but still she wouldn’t tell us. She only said that when the dangers were past she might be able to say something but then ... oh, Sally, you don’t know the sad news.”  
     “What sad news?”  
     “She’s died. Bathilda’s died.”  
     “I did know, actually. We went down to Godric’s Hollow after we’d found out you and Mum had got married there.”  
     “How did you know that?”  
     “It’s my fault, Mrs. Allbright.” This came from Tom. “I was trying to help Sally with the adoption business and we had been looking at her birth certificate and your wedding certificate which mentioned the church in Godric’s Hollow. We went down and talked with the vicar who told us that Bathilda had died. He also said he had arranged your wedding and several others as well, apparently.”  
     “Others? We didn’t know them, did we Ben?”  
     “No, but then there were a lot of things Bathilda didn’t say. Not only did she refuse to tell us about your parents, Sally, she even refused to tell me why I was to be Benedict Allbright. She always seemed to be saying it was best and safest if we didn’t know too much.”  
     “I think she used the name of the little boy who died young and whose grave we saw in the church at Little Hangleton. The name and date of birth fit. It’s too much of a coincidence.”  
     “I agree with you, Tom. It’s more than likely, especially as we’re talking about a place very much associated with the Wizarding World. Did you know that?”  
     “No, we didn’t, did we Sam.”  
     “No. Er...Mr. Allbright. Can I ask a personal question?”  
     “By all means, Sam. Fire away.”  
     “What was your surname before you became an Allbright?”  
     “Prewett and you know we were talking about Ginny Weasley just now? Her mother’s maiden name is Prewett and I am her second cousin. They have a several children and I’m told their youngest son, Ronald, Ginny’s sister, is a very good friend of this Harry Potter we keep mentioning.”  
     “Wow, that’s amazing; how strange that we should bump into Ginny and then find out you are related!”  
     “Yes, it is, Tom, but there’s something else you should all know about the family and that is we hardly ever see them, and when we do it’s all rather awkward. The Weasleys are a pure blood family and, like others in the magical world, have a problem with Squibs. They regard me as an aberration and an embarrassment.  
     “I find that difficult to believe, Mr. Allbright. We’ve met Ginny and Ron and they don’t seem the sort of people who would think like that. Maybe they felt it would’ve been dangerous for them to be associated with you - dangerous for you that is - so they avoided you for your own safety.”  
     “That’s very charitable and perceptive of you, Sam, and yes, there may be some truth in what you say; but it’s also the case that we have essentially become Muggles, living entirely in their - your - world and in doing so have cut ourselves off from our extended family. Voldemort, when he was first around, wanted to root out squibs and mud bloods - that’s what those who are not from pure blood wizarding families are called by some - and do away with them. The Weasley family, even though they were pure bloods, became something of a threat to him because of their connection to Harry Potter so they were in considerable danger and, had we been closer to them, so would we have been.”  
     “Why were you married in Godric’s Hollow? Neither of you came from there, did you?”  
     “No, we didn’t, Sam” replied Mrs. Albright. “We have both lived around here and I actually met your dad in Cambridge and - I’ve never told you this, Sally - he actually proposed to me on a punt on the River Cam! It was Bathilda’s idea to marry in Godric’s Hollow. She lived down there and maybe felt our new Muggle identities were somehow safer if we married in such an out-of-the-way place. Tom, you’re looking puzzled. What is it?”  
     “My dad has a friend who works at the family record office in Islington and when we were trying to find out something about Sally’s background, I contacted him about her birth certificate. I got hold of one through him and we compared it with the one she has here and it was the same so I’m wondering...”  
     “I know what you’re thinking and yes, all our birth certificates are false! As I said, my parents’ names were changed, almost certainly by Bathilda, and Ben has just mentioned what happened to him. We don’t know about Sally’s birth parents at all but knowing Bathilda, you can be sure it would be extraordinarily difficult for the Muggle authorities to find out the truth about us all. That’s what she told us and we believed her. Tom, I’m sure that if you asked your friend at the record office for our birth certificates and wedding certificates, he would find them quite easily and they would look completely genuine. Bathilda would have seen to that.” Mrs. Allbright turned to her husband. “Ben, you asked her the same sort of questions Tom’s asking us, didn’t you?”  
     “Yes, I did and she gave the same answer. She also said - and she chuckled a bit, I remember - that if any official was at all suspicious of a certificate, he or she would suddenly remember they needed to be somewhere else or else a thought would pop into their head and they would forget all about their suspicions!”  
     “Sounds like she in some way bewitched the certificates.” Sam turned to Tom. “Like the protection put round Hogwarts to stop unwanted attention from Muggles.”  
     “I’d forgotten about that but yeah, it does.”  
     “My goodness, you are both certainly very well informed about things!” Mr. Allbright sounded very impressed. He turned to Sally.  
     “Is there anything else you want to ask us?”  
     “I don’t think so, Dad. The one thing I would like to know is the names of my biological parents and you can’t help me with that, can you?”  
     “I’m afraid not and now that Bathilda’s died...well...”  
     “She wrote books, didn’t she?” This came from Tom who felt a change of subject was needed.  
     “She did, yes. The book she is most remembered for is ‘A History of Magic’. We had a copy once didn’t we, Kath. We got rid of it because if it had been found in our house by the wrong sort of people, questions would have been asked and I hate to think what would have happened to us, and to Sally!”  
     “If she was a writer, how come she was involved in stuff like adoptions? I mean, it’s possible you were the only family she helped but we know she arranged other weddings down in Godric’s Hollow so it looks like she might have helped other families in this way, too.  
     “She might well have done, Tom, but if she did, she never said anything about it to us; and weddings don’t necessarily have anything to do with adoptions.”  
    “That’s true but…”  
     “Tom, that book!” Sam sounded excited.  
     “History of Magic? What about it?”  
     “No, not that one. The one we thought it was an address book but when we looked at it more closely it didn’t seem like one at all.”  
     “Oh right, that one.” Tom looked at Mr. and Mrs. Allbright. “It had your names and address on a separate page from Sally’s which doesn’t make any sense if it was an address book. What about it, Sam?”  
     “I’m wondering if it’s something to do with adoptions. If she was keeping a list of people she’d helped, it might then make sense for Sally’s name to be a separate entry. Maybe she was keeping a record of babies and children who needed to be adopted and the names of people who wanted to adopt. She recorded the details in that book.”  
     “Very possibly but wouldn’t it have been dangerous to have it lying around?” Mr. Allbright looked at Tom. “Where did you find it?”  
     “In her cottage, in the smaller of the two bedrooms. We had a look around while we were down in Godric’s Hollow.” Tom expected further questions about what they were doing in Bathilda’s cottage. When none were forthcoming, he went hastily on. “If Sam’s right and it’s a record of adoptions she has arranged, it’s not really that dangerous.”  
     “Why not?”  
     “Because it doesn’t seem to record biological parents. I can’t remember all the names mentioned in the book but, to take Sally as an example; she’s listed under Sally Allbright with her address the same as yours here in Letchworth. She’s not down as Sally - I don’t know - Sally Smith or whoever her parents were.”  
     “Figg!”  
     “What have figs to do with all this, Sally?”  
     “Figg, Tom, with two ‘Gs. That was one of the other names in the book. I remember because it’s a bit unusual.”  
     “True but how...” Tom was about to ask again how this was relevant to what they were talking about when he was interrupted by Mrs. Allbright.  
     “Arabella, that could be old Arabella Figg, couldn’t it, Ben?”  
     “Could be.” Mr. Allbright turned to Sally. “Can you remember anything else it said about her?”  
     “No, I can’t but the name Arabella rings a bell because, like Figg, it’s rather unusual.”  
     “Arabella’s a good friend of ours and like us she’s a Squib. She lives down in Little Whinging which is near Guildford, very close to where Harry Potter lived when he was young.”  
     “So, if we contacted her,” went on Sally, “she could tell us if Bathilda helped her as well and maybe she might know something about my birth parents. Bathilda might have said something to her!”  
     “Well, I think I can help you here.” Mrs. Allbright got up carefully from the dining room chair and went over to a small table by the door on which there was a telephone. She opened a small drawer and took out an address book, turning over a few pages before finding the number she wanted. She then picked up the receiver and dialled. The room went quiet and Sally looked nervously at Sam and Tom.  
     “Oh, hello is that Mrs. Figg?…Arabella?” Mrs Allbright looked at the expectant figures round the table and gave the thumbs-up as she spoke on the ’phone.  
     “It’s Kath Allbright from Letchworth…Letchworth, up near Cambridge…that’s it…yes, we’re all fine and I have some good news...yes, that’s right. How did you guess!...oh, I did, did I?…right… and you’re …good…yes…yes…yes…listen Arabella, I’ll tell you all about the baby soon, I promise, but there’s something else I need to ask you…no…yes…it’s about Sally…no, she’s fine and here with us at the moment with two of her school friends…yes…listen, did Bathilda ever help you in any way?...No, I mean like she did Ben and I…right...and birth parents...yes...did she ever say who they were?...right...right...yes…yes…I see…yes, they’re lovely creatures....nine?....really?...bit of a handful.” Mrs. Allbright looked up and rolled her eyes.  
     “She’s banging on about her cats!” whispered Mr. Allbright knowingly to Sally, Sam and Tom as his wife continued speaking on the ’phone.  
     “Look, Arabella, we must get together very soon after the birth of the baby...yes...yes...we must...alright then...yes...yes...I will...goodbye then...yes...fine...’bye.” Mrs. Allbright replaced the handset, put the address book back in the drawer and returned to the dining room table where four expectant faces looked up at her.  
     “I’m very fond of Arabella but she does go on about her cats!” Mrs. Allbright looked at Sam and Tom. “She breeds cats which are a cross between ordinary Muggle cats and Kneazles which are magical creatures, a bit like a cat. She told me she has nine in the house at the moment!”  
     “What about adoptions, Mum? Did she know anything?” Sally sounded apprehensive.  
     “She knew that Bathilda had something to do with them because she asked her if she was prepared to adopt should the need arise. Arabella said she wasn’t very keen and never heard anything about the matter again but she learned of these adoptions through talking to the people who bought her cats. Many of them would have been Squibs like her and fond of a bit of gossip. Unfortunately, Sally, she seems to know nothing at all about birth parents. It looks as if Bathilda was very secretive about that. Oh, and she did say she thought most or all of the adoptions were for Squibs who were living almost completely in the Muggle world and therefore the children or babies were not magical people at all because that could have proved very awkward.”  
     “I wonder where she got them?” put in Tom. “I mean, had the parents died or were the babies given up for adoption for other reasons? Oh, Sally, I’m sorry. I’m being very thoughtless. I don’t want to upset you.”  
     “No, it’s alright, Tom. Go ahead. I was wondering the same thing myself. Did families contact her, do you think, or did she contact them?”  
     “I wonder if she went round orphanages, and if she did, were they Muggle ones or wizarding ones?” Sam, who had asked this question, looked at Mr. and Mrs. Allbright.  
     “A good question,” replied Mr. Allbright, “but I’m afraid I don’t know the answer. We know that Tom Riddle - Voldemort - spent the first eleven years of his life in a London orphanage after his mother, Merope, died. He was found there by Dumbledore and offered a place in Hogwarts.”  
     “Would he have got one of those letters the school sends out?” asked Sam.  
     “Presumably he did as he was eleven years old at the time which is the age you go to Hogwarts.”  
     “Was it a Muggle orphanage?” asked Tom.  
     “I don’t know. If it wasn’t, it might have been a bit puzzling for the authorities if they saw the letter and even more so when Dumbledore turned up!”  
     “But he was never adopted, was he?” Sally looked expectantly at her parents.  
     “No, Hogwarts became home for him while he was there and maybe Dumbledore became a sort of father figure, much as he did for Harry Potter, I imagine." There was a silence as they all thought about what had been discussed. Then Mrs. Allbright got to her feet.  
     “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go and have a little lie-down. I feel rather worn out.”  
     “Of course, of course. You mustn’t overdue things. I’ll help you up.” Mr. Allbright got swiftly to his feet as did Sam, Sally and Tom.  
     “We really should be going, soon.” Sam looked at Tom. “What time did you say the trains left for Cambridge?”  
     “Ten past the hour and it’s now...” Tom looked at his watch “... coming up to a quarter to four so we’ve just got time to get to the station and catch the five ten. Sally, are you OK with that?”  
     “Yeah, I’m fine. You two get off to Cambridge. Shall we meet up here in a couple of days and travel down to Steyning together?” Sally still remembered the panic she felt that first time she travelled down to the school and was grateful when Tom and Sam said they thought that sounded like a good idea and that they would see her on Sunday. They said goodbye to her parents and set off for the station with Sally waving them off from the front doorstep.


	4. Chapter 4

  
Saturday 30th May

In which Sam stays in Tom’s house and he shows her round Cambridge

    Sam woke with a start, sat up and for a few moments didn’t know where she was. The room was unfamiliar and didn’t look at all like her room back home or the one in the boarding house at Steyning Grammar School. She started to panic but then in the next instant it came back to her. She was in the spare room in Tom’s parent’s house in Cambridge. After they had left Letchworth, she and Tom just had time to catch the five ten. At Cambridge Station it was only as short walk to Tenison Avenue, just off Tenison Road with its row of Victorian terraced houses on their left and much newer buildings on the right which Tom told her were on the site of a former wood merchant’s yard which in turn bordered on railway sidings.  
     They had both been very tired when they’d arrived, due not to any physical exertion but to the mental stress of dealing with the question of Sally’s adoption. Both had been relieved that Sally seemed to have taken the news as well as she did and been happy to stay with her parents.  
     Any further thoughts going round in Sam’s head were interrupted by a knock on the door and a girl, dark-haired, tall, slim and some years older than Sam, entered with two cups of tea.  
     “Thought you might like this,” she said, holding out one of them. “Something my dear brother should be doing but he’s still fast asleep! I’m Jess, his sister, and you must be Sam.”  
     “Yeah, that’s right. Hi, nice to meet you.” Sam sat up, took the cup of tea, placed it on the bedside table then leaned forward to shake Jess’s hand.  
     “I’m sorry not to have been around last night when you got in.” As she spoke, Jess sat down at the end of the bed and took a sip of her tea. “I was out at the Spread Eagle pub with some friends, celebrating a birthday. When I got in you had both gone to bed.”  
     “We were both really tired. It had been a difficult day.”  
     “Tom said something about helping a friend with some problems.”  
     “Yeah, that’s right, we were.” Sam was glad when Jess didn’t seem to want further details but instead asked her about where she lived and what she was studying. She also wanted to know all about the temporary closure of Steyning Grammar School and what was going to happen. Sam answered all her questions as best she could and in return learnt that Jess lived at home, worked at Christ’s College on the administrative side and had a boyfriend who lived in Grantchester, a village, she told her, which was just outside Cambridge.  
     “You must get Tom to show you around,” Jess continued. “There are so many things to see. It’s a great city but then I’m biased, aren’t I! Anyway look...” she stood up and made for the door. “I’ll let you get dressed. The bathroom is on the first floor and there’s a towel behind the door. Take your time. Tom won’t be up any time soon!”  
     Jess wasn’t entirely right about her brother. When Sam got downstairs, she found Tom in the kitchen, a cup of tea and toast and marmalade in front of him.  
     “Hi Sam, did you sleep OK?”  
     “Like a log! You?”  
     “Ditto. It wasn’t an easy day yesterday, was it!”  
     “You can say that again!”  
     “It wasn’t an easy...”  
     “Thank you, Tom!”  
     “You’re welcome. Want some breakfast?”  
     “Please. I’ll go and…”  
     “No, no you sit down and I’ll get it. Cup of tea? Toast? Egg? Cereal?”  
     “I’ve just had tea - Jess brought me a cup - toast’s fine, thanks.”  
     They sat eating their breakfast, chatting about all that had transpired yesterday at Sally’s home. Jess put her head round the door and told them she was off to Granchester and that Tom was to look after his guest properly. She waved to them both and disappeared.  
     “She’s nice, your sister,” said Sam.  
     “Yeah, she’s OK, I suppose. It’s like I hoped. With you here she’s laying off the messing up the house bit. I mean, am I really a messy person?”  
     “Don’t know, Tom. I’ve never seen your room either here or in Bennett’s boarding house, have I.”  
     “Pristine, both of them, I can tell you!”  
     “Yeah, ’course they are.”  
     After they’d finished their breakfast, Tom suggested a little sightseeing. They left the house and he led them down Tenison Avenue and into Glisson Road. After a few minutes walking along quiet residential streets, they came to a large expanse of green which Tom told her was called Parker’s Piece. They took one of the diagonal paths across it and headed for the University Arms Hotel on the opposite side. Turning right they headed into the town centre, Tom pointing out the highly decorated arched doorway of Christ’s College where Jess worked. Turning left shortly afterwards, they headed for the market place where he pointed out the old university church of Great St. Mary’s. Beyond it was King’s Parade and Sam’s first live view of King’s College Chapel. They stood for a few minutes, admiring the iconic building before Tom led her further down King’s Parade to Mill Lane which led down to the River Cam where a considerable number of punts were tied up, staff busy helping people in and out of them.  
     “This may be where Sally’s dad proposed to her mum,” said Sally excitedly.  
     “Yeah, more than likely. I wonder if they were going upstream towards Granchester or downstream past Midsummer Common when he popped the question.”  
     “What are those old-looking rollers over there?” Sam was pointing to a patch of grass directly opposite the river and Mill Lane.  
     “We’re standing where the River Cam is on two levels.” Tom turned and pointed to where the water flowed over a weir and into a large pool before flowing away downstream under a bridge. “If you hire a punt here,” he continued, “you’re not really allowed to move it from one level to the other but if you do you use those rollers and slipway. Most that do use them have their own private punts. Come on, I’ll show you The Backs and Midsummer Common.”  
They walked back up Mill Lane and before long they found themselves on the bridge Sam had seen from the weir. They walked over it and turned right onto a leafy road running parallel to the Cam which Tom told her led to a wooded and grassy area known as The Backs. He explained that in the spring the whole area was covered in crocuses and it was an unbelievable sight. They walked on, Tom explaining as they went that this side of the river was originally the village of Chesterton but was now part of Cambridge although still retaining its name. After five more minutes walking they came to a footbridge over the river and crossed onto what Tom told Sam was called Midsummer Common. It was now quite warm so Sam pointed to a seat by the river and they made for it a sat down. Students and townspeople strolled past along the river path and occasionally rowers appeared on the river, singly or in pairs. After a minute or so of taking in the scene, Sam pointed to some buildings on the other side of the river.  
     “Tom, what are those?”  
     “They’re boathouses where the colleges keep their rowing boats. That one almost straight in front of us is called Goldie after one of its presidents. It’s the University of Cambridge Boathouse and they are the ones involved in the Oxford and Cambridge boat race every year.  
     “Is that the only rowing competition?”  
     “No, it’s not. They have an event every year called The Bumps. It’s usually in February or March. It started in the early nineteenth century when they found that side-by-side racing was not possible over any distance because the river is too narrow.  
     “Do the boats actually bump each other? Wouldn’t that damage them?”  
     “It’s more about touching that actually bashing into them. At the start of the race, the crews line up along the river with one and a half boat lengths of clear water between them. They then fire a canon to start the race and the boats chase each other. When one boat is touched by the boat behind, they pull over to allow the other crews to continue racing. The next day, all the boats involved in a bump swap places and they race again. This goes on for several days and the aim of the top crews is to get the title “Head of the River."  
     “I didn’t know rowing was taken so seriously. Now that I’ve been here and you’ve told me all about it, I know who I’ll have to back in future Boat Races, won’t I!”  
     “Sam, don’t tell me you supported Oxford!”  
     “Well...”  
     “Traitor! That’s dreadful! I’ve a good mind to abandon you here right now! Oxford - I can’t believe it!” Tom stood up, shaking his head in mock sorrow. “Do you think you can find your way back to the station from here?”  
     “Tom, you wouldn’t!” Sam stood up and grabbed Tom’s hand. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”  
     “Yeah, of course I am, you idiot! Did you really think I’d just leave you here?”  
     “Well I don’t really know you, do I? You might have a vicious streak in you!”  
     Now it was Tom’s turn to look shocked and, Sam thought, a little hurt.” She squeezed his hand.  
     “Come on it’s me joking this time! I know you well enough to know you are not like that at all. Do you think Sally and I would go gallivanting all over the country with someone who might abandon us at any minute, especially when he learned we both support Oxford in the Boat Race?”  
     “What? Sally too? I can’t take any more of this! Come on let’s head home while I think what to do about the pair of you!”  
     As they set off across Midsummer Common, Tom was pleasantly surprised to find that Sam still had hold of his hand. He wondered if he should let go but decided against it. It made him feel inexplicably happy. Instead of letting go he gave her hand a squeeze and was rewarded with a squeeze back. They came to some houses on the edge of the common and crossed a grassy area Tom said was called Christ’s Pieces. A little further on, he told her, was Drummer Street where the city’s bus station was situated. He pointed up the road leading away from it.  
     “This way and you’ll know where we are.”  
     “Ah, we’re close to Parker’s Piece, aren’t we? You can leave me here if you want. I think I can find my way back to your house from here.”  
     “Ah, but I’m taking you back another way.”  
     “You are?”  
     “Yeah, come on.”  
     Instead of crossing Parker’s Piece, Tom led Sam up the side and on to Mill Road, passing a swimming pool on their right and a post office depot on their left. Five minutes’ walk brought them in sight of a bridge but before reaching it, Tom turned right into Tenison Road and another five minutes brought them to Tenison Avenue. Tom reluctantly let go of Sam’s hand and fished in his pocket for the house key. He opened the front door and bent to pick up some post and a newspaper from the mat before leading the way through to the kitchen.  
     “Tea? Coffee?”  
     “Tea’d be great, thanks.”  
     “While I’m making it, have a look in that cupboard by the window. There should be some biscuits in there.”  
     They sat at the kitchen table with mugs of tea and a plate of chocolate digestives between them while Tom looked through the post. There was nothing for him but two for his parents and one for his sister. While he was doing that, Sam had picked up the local newspaper and idly thumbed through it. She had reached the middle section when she suddenly paused and appeared to be reading something more carefully. She looked up.  
     “Tom, where’s Wandlebury and Lode?”  
     “Wandlebury is actually Wandlebury Ring and it’s an old Bronze and Iron Age hill fort just outside the city, up on some hills called the Gogmagog Hills. It’s the sort of Chanctonbury Ring of Cambridge. Lode is a small fenland village. Why do you ask?”  
     “There’s an article here about some strange sightings at Wandlebury and Lode.” Sam picked up the paper and told Tom about how a Mrs. Braithwaite had been walking her two dogs up at Wandlebury Ring the other evening when she had been frightened by a tall shadowy figure she saw up there. The dogs had barked and the figure just seemed to disappear, Mrs Braithwaite told the newspaper. A similar story was told in the village of Lode where a Simon Aves had been returning to his home in Mill Lane late in the evening and had seen a tall shadowy figure standing by the churchyard wall. He had crossed the road to avoid getting too close to him but when he looked back the figure had vanished. There had been similar sightings by other people in the village, the newspaper article stated.  
     When Sam had finished reading the article, Tom got up, left the room and came back with a large book. He put it down on the kitchen table and turned to the index at the back. When he had found the page he wanted, he looked at it for a moment and then looked up at Sam.  
     “This is Dad’s book about Cambridgeshire folk lore,” he explained. “This is what it says about Wandlebury Ring. He looked down at the page and read out what was written there:

_Wandlebury Camp is situated at the top of the Gogmagog Hills and is a large Iron Age hill fort. Its name may derive from Waendal, an old English name and possible the name of the man who owned the land it stood on. Interestingly, the Long Man of Wilmington in Sussex was in Anglo-Saxon times known as ‘the helmeted Waendel’ so it’s possible both names refer to a forgotten giant._

    Tom paused and looked up at Sam. “Gog and Magog were two giants,” he explained. “There’s a mention in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s book ‘The History of the Kings of Britain’ of a giant he called Goemagot which became Gogmagog. Maybe it was originally one giant but someone split the name and it became two. There were excavations up there in the 1950s and the archaeologists supposedly uncovered the outlines of three giant figures including that of a goddess on the back of a beaked horse pulling a chariot.”  
     “I’m impressed by your knowledge, Tom.”  
     “Well Dad’s interested in this sort of thing so I got interested through him, I suppose.”  
     “What else does it say about Wandlebury? It’s such a lovely name. Also, I can’t help thinking about Chanctonbury Ring at the same time and wonder if it has any stories of walking round seven times at midnight like we did up there.”  
     “Let’s have a look.” Tom went back to the book and continued to read out what it said:

_There is a legend that if a warrior enters the level space at the centre of the camp alone and, at dead of night when the moon is shining and shouts ‘knight to knight, come forth,’ a warrior will appear with his horse and they have to fight. Tradition has it that a knight called Osbert Fitzhugh decided to put this story to the test. He and his squire rode up to the camp and Fitzhugh entered the enclosure before shouting ‘knight to knight come forth.’ The phantom knight duly appeared on his horse and they fought. Fitzhugh managed to knock his opponent off his horse. He grabbed the steed and was leading it away when the phantom knight leapt to his feet and threw his spear at Fitzhugh, wounding him in the thigh. Despite this, he managed to lead the horse away with the help of his squire who had witnessed everything that had happened from outside the enclosure. They got it back to Cambridge castle where Fitzhugh was staying but at cockcrow the horse suddenly went wild and broke away. It vanished and was never seen again._

    “Well, it’s not the same at the Chanctonbury Ring story,” said Sam, “but there is a similarity in that whatever’s there has to be summoned. We had to walk round the ring anti-clockwise, didn’t we? At Wandlebury Camp you have to shout ‘knight to knight come forth.’ After what happened at Chanctonbury, I don’t think I’ll be giving it a go!”  
     “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not going anywhere near the place after what happened to us!”  
     “Is there anything about the village of Lode? Perhaps it was the phantom knight was there, looking for his horse!”  
     “Interesting thought but neither this Mrs Braithwaite nor this Simon Aves mentioned anything about a clanking noise like there would be if someone was walking around in armour.”  
     “Perhaps he took it off; or maybe if you’re a ghost there’s no clanking noise.”  
     “Maybe.” Tom closed the book and put it on the table. “Anyway, there’s nothing more about what happened in Lode.”  
“It’s a funny name, Lode. What does it mean?”  
     “The village is in the Fens which are very low-lying and marshy. They began draining them hundreds of years ago and it’s possible the Romans made a start even earlier, digging channels to take away the water. These have become known as Lodes.  
     “Right, so nothing to do with stones.”  
     “Stones? What do you mean?”  
     “I was thinking about Lodestones, Tom. You know, pieces of magnetic rock used as the first compasses.”  
     “Right, got you. No, I don’t think they have anything to do with it.”  
     “Pity about that because if the village was named after some sort of stone, there would be a connection with Steyning, wouldn’t there.”  
     “Ah, you mean because it was called Staninges in the Domesday Book - the place of the stone. Interesting thought but it’d be a bit of a longshot if there was a connection, wouldn’t it?”  
     “Well, stranger things have happened, haven’t they!”  
      “You can say that again!”  
     “Well, stranger things….”  
     Sam and Tom looked at each other and laughed. Tom was about to say something else when the telephone rang.  
     “I’ll get that. Won’t be a moment.” He disappeared into the hallway and Sam heard his voice indistinctly through the half-open door. When he reappeared a minute or so later he looked worried.  
     “What is it, Tom. Bad news?”  
     “I don’t know. That was Sally.”  
     “Is she OK? Maybe that adoption stuff is finally sinking in and she’s unhappy about it. I would be, I think.”  
     “No, it’s not that at all. She said she’s just had a ’phone call from Peggy Deys down in Saxon Cottage. An owl appeared a short while ago, with a note.”  
     “We had one of those, didn't we? Was it from Ginny or one of the others? What did it say?”  
     “Well, that’s the problem. Peggy can’t make it out at all. She told Sally it looks as though it was written in a great hurry and it’s just a sort of scribble. It also got wet because it’s been raining down there. Sally said she sounded worried so she told her to ask someone in the boarding house to scan it and e-mail it to her dad. It hasn’t come through yet but Sally says can we come down to Letchworth early tomorrow and have a look at it with her. She’s worried that something bad has happened.”


	5. Chapter 5

  
Sunday 31st May

In which they try to read the note and make a decision

    “It doesn’t make any sense at all.”  
     Sam looked up from the sheet of paper in front of her. She, Sally and Tom were once more sitting round the kitchen table in Sally’s home in Letchworth. It was still quite early as she and Tom had taken an early train from Cambridge and it had been around half past nine when they’d knocked on the front door of Sally’s family home and been welcomed in by Mr. Allbright who ushered them through to the kitchen where copies of the note that had been delivered by owl to Saxon Cottage were laid out on the table.  
     “You’re right,” replied Tom. “I can’t make any sense of it either; and it’s not helped by the writing being smudged. The first letter looks a bit like a C but the rest I can’t make out at all. Sally, did Peggy say anything else about it when she ’phoned you?”  
     “Not much. She just said she heard a flapping noise at the window like we did in the Church Street library - remember? She went to look, opened the window and this owl flew in with this note tied to its foot. She said it didn’t look a very young and seemed exhausted. There was some blood on one of its wings but she doesn’t know whether it was the owl’s blood or someone else’s and she didn’t like to get too close in case it pecked her!”  
     “That sounds like Pigwidgeon!” exclaimed Sam. “It belonged to Ginny Weasley’s brother Ron, didn’t it? Is it still there?”  
     “I think so,” replied Sally. “Peggy said something about going up to the pet shop in the high street and getting some sunflower seeds to try and perk it up.”  
     “So, she didn’t send it off with a reply?”  
     “Doesn’t sound like it.”  
     “Not much point in replying if we don’t know what the message says.” This came from Tom.  
     “We could send a note back saying we can’t read what they wrote and could they send another.”  
     “We could, Sam, but that owl doesn’t seem to be up to too much postal delivery at the moment. If it is Pigwidgeon, he wasn’t in a great state when he delivered our letters! He looked pretty clapped out then!”  
     “That’s not a very nice thing to say about the poor bird, Tom.” Sam glared at him.  
     “I know but it’s true. He’s quite an old owl by the look of things. Quite apart from wearing him out completely, we may be sending him into danger or letting whoever it is know where he came from. Maybe they can track his flight.”  
     “I don’t see how they could; and in any case the note we got didn’t have any sort of address, did it, and this one doesn’t either.”  
     “I think the first letter is a G and the second could be a D or a P.” While Tom and Sam had been holding this conversation, Sally had been staring intently at the note.  
      “Could be, yes.” Sam had picked up her copy and was looking at it again.  
     “OK.” Tom picked up his copy and peered at it. “If it’s a D then we have GD which could be short for Good. Could be something like Good Day. It’s not the beginning of a word, is it? I can’t think of any words beginning with GD, can you?”  
     No one could.  
     “If the second letter is a P,” he continued, “then we have GP and that doesn’t sound like the beginning of a word, either.”  
     “So, you think that what they’ve written aren’t complete words but initials or abbreviations of some sort?”  
     “Could be, Sam, yeah.” Tom pointed to the sheet of paper in front of him. “There’s not much here at all. Even writing just a few complete words would make it longer than this. If they are using abbreviations, then GD could well be something like Good Day. If it’s GP it could be - I don’t know – General Practitioner or…”  
     “…Grimmauld Place?” Sally stood up, came around the table and placed her copy down where both Sam and Tom could see it.  
     “If ‘it’s GP and it’s Grimmauld Place,” she continued, pointing, “then that last letter is also a P.”  
     “Could be.” Tom sounded sceptical.  
     “We know Grimmauld Place is somewhere known to them,” pressed on Sally. “You went up there with Hermione to talk to Harry, didn’t you?”  
     “Yeah, I did. Go on.”  
     “The third letter could be a ‘G’ because it looks like the first one.”  
     “OK, What else?”  
     “There’s a dot after the first two letters, I think. It’s smudged but it looks like a dot to me, a full stop. So, we have GP, dot, G, something, something, something, something, P; and there could be another dot after the fifth letter.” Sally looked up at her friends, her face flushed with excitement.  
     “If you’re right,” replied Tom, “then it certainly looks like individual letters rather than words.”  
     “Hey Sally, for once I think he may be right. I agree with him. That must be a first!”  
     “So kind, Sam”  
     “You’re welcome. What else can you see, Sally?”  
     “Maybe an ‘S’.”  
     “Where?”  
     “Fifth letter.”  
     “That gives us GP, dot, something, something, S, dot, something, something, P.” As he was speaking, Tom had picked up a pencil and was writing on the sheet of paper in front of him.  
     “Wait a minute,” Now Sam was peering intently at the note. “If the first letter is a G then the third looks a bit like a G too.”  
     “OK,” Tom added this to what he had written. “What about two Is for letters six and seven?”  
      “What could they stand for?”  
     “No idea.”  
     “That’s not two I’s, Tom, that’s an H! You can just make out a little bar joining them together in the middle!”  
     “Could well be, yes.” Tom looked at Sally admiringly.  
     “Help!” This came from Sam.  
     “What is it? Are you OK?”  
     “I’m fine thanks Tom but it’s so nice to know you care! No, I think the last three letters could be short for Help. Hlp is often a common abbreviation for Help, isn’t it?”  
     “Yeah, it is. So, the note might read Grimmauld Place. G, something, S. Help.”  
     “If we’re right, then they’re giving us a place, a clue to what’s wrong and asking for help. We’re assuming something’s wrong because the note was obviously written in a very great hurry and would be difficult to read even if it hadn’t got wet.” Sam sat back in her chair and looked at the others.  
     “How do we know they want our help? The note was sent to Peggy and might be for her or possibly Mr. Ollivander, assuming he’s still with her. It may not be for us at all.”  
     “That’s true, Tom, but even if it was for Peggy and Mr. Ollivander they are not in a position to be much help. I don’t mean to be rude about Peggy but, well, she’s getting on a bit and Mr. Ollivander’s not exactly in the first flush of youth either and he’s only just getting over his ordeal under Chanctonbury and whatever he went through before. I seem to remember Hermione saying he’d had a hard time when that Voldemort was around.  
     “So, what should be do, then?” asked Sally.  
     “One of three things, I think,” suggested Tom. “We’re due to go back to Steyning today – remember? So, we could do that, check on what’s happening at the school and then go and talk with Peggy and Mr Ollivander to see if they remember anything else. The second thing we could do is visit Grimmauld Place and see if there’s anything going on there. Thirdly, we could just ignore it. After all, the note wasn’t sent to us and we don’t actually know where it came from. We’re assuming it’s from Hermione, Ron and Harry but we don’t know that for sure either.”  
     “It probably is for us, Tom,” said Sally, “and almost certainly from them. We can’t just ignore it! They may be in danger.”  
     “I agree, but we don’t have much to go on, do we. We don’t know they are actually in danger because we can’t read the note properly. OK, I know what you’re going to say and yes, the last three letters could well be short for help; but what about the first two? How sure are we that it’s Grimmauld Place? We only have two of the three middle letters so we don’t have much to go on.”  
     “I vote we go to Grimmauld Place,” Sam sounded decisive. “If there’s nothing there we can go on down to Steyning and talk with Peggy and Mr. Ollivander, if he’s still there. We can also call in at the boarding house and see what’s going on with the school. We haven’t heard anything and it’s the end of half term.”  
     After further discussion both Sally and Tom thought Sam’s idea was worth a try. They could not have known at this point what a momentous decision this would turn out to be.


	6. Chapter 6

  
Sunday 31st May

In which Sam, Sally and Tom travel to Grimmauld Place

    While they were on the tube to Islington, Tom was thinking about when he visited Grimmauld Place with Hermione and while doing this he remembered something and let out a groan. Sam and Sally, standing close by on the crowded train, looked at him questioningly.  
     “What the matter, Tom? Are you OK?” Sam had to shout over the noise of the train.  
     “I’m OK, yeah, but I’ve just remembered something; or rather I’d forgotten something!”  
     “No, you haven’t. For a bloke, you were very well organised. You remembered to put several torches in your back-pack. You also remembered Sally’s wand so we could show it to Hermione, Harry and Ron if we find them. We’ve got sandwiches and we’ve got drinks. I call that being very organised, don’t you, Sally?”  
     “Definitely. Remembering the wand was a stroke of genius.”  
     “Steady on girl, don’t go too far! We don’t want him getting big-headed!”  
     “When you two have stopped rabbiting on, I’ll tell you what the problem is.” Tom glared at the two girls  
     “OK, we’ve stopped rabbiting. What’s the problem?”  
     “The problem is the house in Grimmauld Place. It won’t be there!”  
     “It won’t be there...great! The bulldozers have moved in and it’s just a heap of rubble? Is that what you mean?”  
     “No, I don’t. Look, sorry, I haven’t explained it too well. It’ll be there OK but we won’t be able to see it and if we can’t see it, I don’t see how we can get in.”  
     “I think I know what he’s getting at, Sam.” Sally turned to Tom. “When you went up to Grimmauld Place with Hermione to talk to Harry, you told us there was some sort of enchantment on the house to prevent Muggles and the likes of Voldemort and his followers seeing it. That’s right isn’t it?”  
     “That’s exactly it. We won’t be able to see it at all. It took Hermione quite a while to get through to Harry and it’s only when she did that the house appeared. It was weird. One moment I could only see number 11 and number 13 and then there was a sort of shimmering and number 12 appeared in the middle.”  
     “I see what you mean.” Sam sounded contrite. “Sorry Tom, I’d forgotten all about that. Anyway, we’re nearly there now so we can still go and have a look, can’t we. If we can’t see the house and get in, we can hop back on the tube to Victoria and go on down to Steyning.”  
     “Yeah, we could. I’m sorry I didn’t remember about the house before we set off.”  
     “Don’t worry about it.” Sally came to Tom’s rescue. “If we were right about GP meaning Grimmauld Place and they are in the house needing help, then they may be looking out for us. Then the house will appear and they’ll let us in.”  
     “It’s possible I suppose. Let’s hope so.”  
     As they emerged from Islington Underground Station, Tom seemed back to his usual cheerful self, going on about the Family Record Centre being just around the corner where his father’s friend Paul Braithwaite, an ex-pupil at Steyning Grammar School, worked. It was Paul, he reminded them, who had sent him a copy of Sally’s birth certificate when they were trying to help her over the adoption business. They walked towards the poorer part of the borough, relying on Sam’s street map and Tom’s memory of visiting with Hermione. When they found it, Grimmauld Place looked just as he remembered it with its run-down terrace of Victorian or Edwardian town houses, many of them seemingly unoccupied, litter on the pavement and a few old cars parked along the street.  
     “Right, here we are. There’s number 8, 9, 10 and 11 and then...oh...” Tom suddenly stopped speaking and pointed. “Look, there’s 12 and we can see it!”  
     They all looked up at the house in front of them. Sure enough, on the black door and above a brass knocker in the shape of a lion’s head, there was the number 12. Instinctively looking up and down the street and relieved to see no one around, the three of them cautiously approached the house and climbed the steps to the front door. When they got closer, a further surprise awaited them. The door had been damaged. One of the panels was splintered and the black paint was blistered in places, as though someone had used a blow torch on it. Tom tentatively went up to it and Sam and Sally saw him raise the knocker and then replace slowly and carefully without knocking He turned to look at them before turning back to the door again and giving it a push. It opened a fraction to reveal a blackness within. The three of them stood for a moment, looking at the partially open door in front of them.  
     “Even if we got the note wrong, something’s definitely happened here.” Sally found herself whispering even though there was no real reason why she should be doing so. “Do you think we should go in?”  
     “Yeah, and let’s be quick!” As she spoke, Sam was pointing down the road in the direction they had come. Two men were walking towards them. Tom pushed at the door and opened it wide enough to admit the three of them. When they were all inside, he turned and saw there was a bolt at the top and one at the bottom. He pushed the door closed and moved them both across. There were in a dark hallway lit only by the fanlight above the front door which, as it was grimy and covered with cobwebs, admitted far less light than it was designed to do. Tom hesitated for a moment before leading the way down the hallway towards a door at the end.  
     “When I came here with Hermione,” he explained, pointing to the door at the end of the hallway, “we went into that room at the end. Let’s start there.”  
     The door opened onto what looked like a sitting room. Heavy dark curtains hung at the sides of a large sash window at the back of the room and the wall to their right was taken up with what looked like a large old tapestry. When they approached it, they saw it was an elaborately constructed family tree for a family called Black. Oddly, several names had been removed. Burn marks were visible rather like the ones they had seen on the front door. The room, Tom told Sam and Sally, looked pretty much as he remembered it. A few dirty plates were balanced on one of the arms of an old sofa and one was on the floor. It had been broken. Tom picked it up.  
     “I remember Harry apologising for the state of the room,” he said, “but I don’t remember a broken plate. And look at that rug. It’s all rucked up.” He walked up to a large sideboard against the wall opposite the family tree tapestry and bent to pick something up off the floor. When he straightened up, Sam and Sally could see he had a notebook in his hand.  
     “I think there’s been a fight here,” he continued. “OK, maybe fight is too strong a word but some sort of disturbance. Now that I look at it, the room is actually not as it was when Hermione and I were here talking to Harry. He did leave with us but perhaps he came back later and that accounts for the broken plate, the rug and the notebook on the floor. But what about the state the front door? He wouldn’t have damaged it, would he?”  
     “I suppose he might have locked himself out and had to break in,” suggested Sam, “but that doesn’t explain the burn marks, does it. Anything written there?” She pointed to the notebook.  
     “No, but some pages have been torn out by the look of things.” Tom passed it to her. She peered at it before looking up and glancing round the room looking for something.  
     “Anyone got a pencil and something sharp like a penknife or a razor blade?”  
     “I’ve got a pencil.” Tom took off his back-pack and found one in a side pocket. “I haven’t got knife or penknife of any sort, though.” He moved towards the door. “I’ll find the bathroom, there may be some razor blades there.”  
Tom disappeared back into the hall and in the silence that followed, the two girls heard his footsteps going up the stairs. They looked at one another nervously.  
     “Why do you want a pencil and a sharp blade?” asked Sally.  
     “It may not work but it’s something I remember from primary school.” Sam was about to explain things further but stopped when she heard Tom’s footsteps coming back down the stairs and entering the room with something in his hand.  
     “Will this do?”  
     “Perfect.” Sam took the old-fashioned cut-throat razor, sat down on the settee and put the notebook on her knee. Using the razor, she carefully scraped some of the pencil lead onto the page and began rubbing it very gently with her finger. Sally and Tom sat down one on each side of her and looked at what she was doing.  
     “This was a way we used to colour in a map at school,” explained Sam as she scraped more lead from the pencil and rubbed it carefully into the paper. “We usually used coloured crayons and what I remember is that it gave a very professional-looking finish, much smoother than simply doing it in the usual way; but the thing I remembered about it was that if there were any grooves on the paper, like when someone had written on the sheet above the one you were using, the writing appeared because unless you pressed hard, the pencil lead did not fill the grooves. It was a bit like brass rubbing.”  
     Sam finished gently rubbing the pencil lead into the paper and held up the notebook for them all to see. Sure enough, in the middle of the dark grey of the pencil smudges some white marks were visible.  
     “That’s definitely the same writing we saw on the note they sent!” Sally pointed excitedly. “That’s definitely GP there!”  
     “Yeah, you’re right. Sam you’re an absolute genius!” Tom patted her shoulder, expecting her to say something like ‘I know’ but Sam merely grinned at him before looking down at her handiwork and then passing the notebook to Sally.  
     “Go on. You were best at deciphering the original. What do you make of it?”  
     “It’s definitely the same. If anything, it’s clearer!”  
     “Maybe that’s because it hasn’t got wet,” added Tom. “What’s it say?”  
     “It’s definitely the same. Look, there’s the GP which we think stands for Grimmauld Place then...oh...it looks like GBNS not just GS.” Sally looked up. “We only saw a G and an S on note they sent us. We couldn’t make out the B and the N at all but it’s clear here. What do you think it stands for?”  
     “I don’t know. Gubbins? Gibbons?”  
     “Not very likely, Tom.”  
     “Goblins?”  
     “That’s better. What do you think, Sally?”  
     “Yeah, Goblins. They’ve have mentioned them before. If we’re right, then they’ve been attacked by goblins here and are asking for help, the HLP at the end is very clear. They must have been in a great hurry because they didn’t have time to spell things out properly.”  
     “Yeah, looks like it; and they were asking for Peggy’s help,” This came from Sam.  
     “Or Mr. Ollivander’s,” suggested Sally  
     “Or both,” added Tom, “and as Peggy sent the note on to us...”  
     “...it’s up to us to do something.”  
     “Exactly Sam, but what can we do?”  
     “We could still go down to Steyning and talk with them. Mr. Ollivander should certainly know something about what’s going on as he’s part of the magical world. I know he’s quite old and not too well at the moment but he could give us some advice, couldn’t he? What do you think, Sally?”  
     “It’s a good idea but would take too long and we don’t know how much danger Hermione, Harry and Ron are in. If we’re right and goblins are involved, I think we should try and get into Diagon Alley because they run the bank there, don’t they? I can’t remember what it’s called but it was just up from Mr. Ollivander’s shop on the right-hand side, wasn’t it.”  
     “It was called Gringotts and, yes, it was run by goblins but it could be dangerous and if we get captured as well, then...” Tom left the sentence hanging and for a while no one had any answers. No other options seemed to present themselves until Sally suggested they do a thorough search of the house to see if there was anything else they could find to give some clues as to what had happened to their friends.  
     They started on the ground floor, finding a kitchen at the back of the house. A half-glazed door opened onto a small courtyard but it was locked and there was no sign of a key. Opening the two doors in the hallway revealed a dining room and another more formal sitting room, all with heavy drapes and Victorian-looking furniture. Upstairs, there were three bedrooms and the bathroom where Tom had found the razor. All these rooms looked undisturbed and yielded no clues as to what, if anything, had happened in the house. A narrow flight of stairs led up to two attic rooms which might have originally been servant’s quarters. They entered the one nearest to where they were standing. It was full of boxes and broken furniture and fittings. Dirty curtains were pulled across small window which looked out over the street. Sam approached it and pushing aside a cardboard box and pulling back one of the curtains, she peered out.  
     “There’s someone...something in the street!” The tenseness in her voice brought Sally and Tom quickly to her side.  
     “What have you seen?”  
     “Look, behind that car.” Sam pointed. Tom and Sally peered out but neither could see anything unusual and Tom was aboutto tell Sam this when Sally tensed up at his side.  
     “Look at that red car a bit further up the street. There’s something moving behind it and it’s not very big and wearing green and red. It could be a goblin.”  
     “More likely a child.” Tom leaned forward and was about to open the window when Sam put a hand on his arm.  
     “Don’t, Tom. If it’s a goblin he’ll see us. We don’t want to be drawing attention to ourselves, do we?”  
     Tom nodded and withdrew his hand. The three of them remained looking out of the window and as they did so, they saw further movement behind the parked cars and then a glimpse of something which confirmed their worst fears. A small figure, definitely not a child, and dressed in a brown tunic of some sort came into view and instinctively all three moved back from the window. They had all seen the pointed ears and long fingers. As the figure made towards the house, others of a similar stature and dress emerged from behind the parked cars, all holding what were unmistakably wands. Sam, Sally and Tom backed further into the room and looked at each other in dismay. They were trapped.


	7. Chapter 7

  
Sunday 31st May

In which further difficulties and dangers present themselves

    The sound of voices, high pitched, guttural and in a language they did not recognise or understand, was followed by the sound of hammering on the front door. This brought Sam, Sally and Tom to their senses. They had not moved since seeing the goblins approach the house and had seemed rooted to the spot. Now, the sounds coming up from the ground floor galvanised them into action.  
     “Back door?” Sally was looking at Tom.  
     “Locked, and in any case there may be no way out of the yard. We’ve got to hide up here!” As he spoke, Tom was glancing wildly round the attic room.  
     “Yeah but...”  
     “Sam, there’s nothing else we can do. They’ve probably already found out the door is bolted on the inside and that will make them very suspicious. They’ll be in at any moment.”  
     As Tom was speaking, they all heard a loud bang and the sound of the front door being opened. Noiselessly, the three of them sought a place to hide. They were lucky in that they were in one of the two rooms of the house where there was some choice in this. Sally crawled under a pile of old curtains hoping that the dust she disturbed didn’t make her sneeze. Tom found a pile of cardboard boxes in one of the corners but before disappearing behind them, tiptoed to the door and pushed it to, not closing it completely as this might have aroused suspicion. Sam in the meantime had opened the lid of a large wooden chest, climbed in and burrowed under some old clothes before reaching out an arm and lowering the lid carefully and quietly.  
They all held their breath. They or more accurately Sally and Tom - Sam could hear very little from inside the chest - made out the indistinct sound of voices downstairs and then all went quiet for a minute or so before they heard them again. This was followed by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. It sounded like only one individual and this allowed Sally and Tom to relax fractionally. The patter of feet stopped outside the door and then resumed as whoever it was went into the attic room adjacent to theirs. Then they heard the sound of the door to their room being pushed open and footsteps approaching. They could hear breathing and a rustling sound as whoever it was moved further into the room searching or moving objects out of the way.  
     Looking back on this time, Sam Sally and Tom all agreed it was one of the most frightening they had ever experienced, even taking account of all that was to follow. They expected to be discovered at any moment and there was little they would have been able to use to defend themselves, especially against someone armed with a wand as they assumed the intruder would have been. In the event, they never saw their adversary because there was some sort of commotion downstairs and a voice calling out. This resulted in a shouted reply and the sound of footsteps leaving the room and going downstairs.  
     No one moved. Ten minutes passed and Sally and Tom could still hear the sound of voices downstairs. Every now and then these sounds would stop and there would be a few minutes of silence. Then they would resume. This was puzzling. Tom wondered if this was the result of the goblins moving from room to room but unless they were closing doors behind them this seemed an unlikely explanation. At last they heard the sound of the front door being opened and then closed and finally all was quiet.  
     “Everyone OK?” Tom spoke in a whisper as he emerged from behind the pile of cardboard boxes. “I think they’ve gone but don’t make any noise.”  
     “Yeah, I’m OK” Sally emerged from the pile of curtains, removing a dusty velvet green one from over her left shoulder. “I really thought they’d find us!”  
     “We were very lucky, I think. If whoever was searching the room hadn’t been called downstairs, I think he would’ve done. Where’s Sam?” Tom had moved quietly into the middle of the room and was looking around. There was no sign of her. For a split second he and Sally panicked, thinking she’d been captured but then reason kicked in and they both realised that if this had been the case, they would definitely have heard something. Sally looked round the room before eventually going over to the trunk and gently lifting the lid. Curled up inside and partially covered with old clothes was a terrified-looking Sam.  
     “It’s OK, Sam. It’s only me. We think they’ve gone but don’t make any noise.” Sally held out her hand. Sam took it and climbed shakily out of the chest before sitting down on the floor, breathing heavily. Tom and Sally looked on with worried expressions. After a minute, Sam’s breathing returned to normal and she looked up at her friends a faint smile playing on her face.  
     “I wouldn’t want to go through that again,” she whispered. “Could you two hear what was going on?”  
     “More than you,” replied Tom. “I was behind that pile of boxes over there and Sally used those curtains. I’m not sure it was an advantage to hear the room being searched. It was pretty nerve-wracking, wasn’t it Sally?  
     “You can say that again!”  
     “It was pretty nerve…”  
     “Yes, thank you, Tom!” This came from Sam and the slightly accusatory tone was a sign to both of them that Sam was sounding more like her normal self.  
     They waited a further ten minutes and when they heard nothing further, crept cautiously down the stairs and stood in the hallway. The front door was closed and they could all see the bolts had been damaged when it had been forced open. The hall seemed darker than before despite the splintered wood in one of the panels letting in a small shaft of light and the muffled noises from the road outside.  
     “Do you think they’ll be back,” asked Sam anxiously. “And what were they doing here in the first place if Hermione, Ron and Harry aren’t here?”  
     “No idea but I don’t think we should hang about.” As he spoke, Tom was moving towards the front door. He opened it slightly and peered out before opening it wide enough to allow him to step outside. Sam and Sally joined him, blinking in the bright sunshine.  
     “Where do you think they’ve gone?” asked Sally.  
     “Again, no idea but let’s get away from here.” Tom went down the steps and stood on the pavement in front of the house.  
     “I wasn’t talking about the goblins,” continued Sally. “I was wondering where Hermione, Ron and Harry have got to. The note we read seemed to say that they wanted help and were here but they’re not, are they. So, either they were here and left or we got the note wrong and they’re somewhere else.”  
     “I think we got it right,” put in Sam. “I don’t see what else GP GBNS HLP could mean.”  
     “Well, GBNS could mean something other than goblins, couldn’t it; and GP does not necessarily stand for Grimmauld Place. What do you think Tom?”  
     Tom did not appear to have heard any of what Sally said. He was staring intently at the pavement in front of him, more particularly at what appeared to be a manhole cover.  
     “Earth to Tom. Are you receiving us ... over.”  
     “What? Sorry, Sam, what did you say?”  
     “Sally and I were wondering if we interpreted the note correctly and whether it meant something different, which would explain why they’re not here.”  
     “I don’t know about that but I think we’ve overlooked something.”  
     “What are you on about?”  
     “I don’t think we’ve searched the whole house.” Tom pointed at the manhole cover in front of him. “I haven’t been doing very well today, have I? I forgot the house would be invisible and we might not have been able to get in. We were lucky there because the spell or whatever it is that made it invisible seems to have been broken. Now I’ve gone and forgotten about something almost all houses of this age have; and I really should have thought of this earlier because our house in Cambridge has one, with one of these.” Tom pointed at the manhole cover in front of him.  
     “Tom, there are thousands of them all over the place. There are drains and sewers and things like that under them. I don’t see...”  
     “...not this one, Sam. It’s a coal hole. In Victorian and Edwardian times, men delivering coal would lift the manhole cover and tip the coal down a chute and it would go...”  
     “...into the cellar,” exclaimed Sally excitedly. “Tom, are you saying the house has a cellar?”  
     “That’s exactly it. Come on.” Tom started up the steps to the front door but paused when Sam called out.  
     “Someone needs to keep a look-out. You and Sally go on in and have a look and I’ll wait here in case those goblins come back.”  
     “Good thinking, Sam. If you see them let us know as soon as possible and if we need to, I suggest we go and hide where we did before, up in the attic room. They might not bother to search where they’ve already looked.”  
     Sally followed Tom back into the house and closed the door behind her. It seemed darker than ever, especially after the bright sunshine outside and she glanced nervously around before following down the hallway to where he had stopped and was opening a small door under the stairs.  
     “I assumed this was just a cupboard,” he explained when Sally came up to him, “but it’s not. Look, there’s a wooden flight of stairs just like in our house in Cambridge. Can you see a light switch?”  
     Sally felt the panelling on either side of the door but there was no switch. Tom produced a torch from his back pack which he shone down the stairs before stepping on to the first step and testing it with his weight. Finding it safe, he continued on down with Sally following cautiously behind him. They stepped onto a stone flagged floor and Tom shone the torch around. They were in a good-sized cellar with whitewashed walls. It was virtually empty apart from a large earthenware pot and an old wooden step-ladder. Sally lifted the lid of the pot but it was empty. In front of them was a wooden door. Tom went over and tried the handle. It wasn’t locked so he pushed it open and the two of them entered another room looking very much like the first. An old-fashioned cast iron stove stood against the left-hand wall. Large bore leaded pipes came out of the back, climbed the wall and disappeared through the ceiling. A small pile of coal and a shovel stood next to the stove and Tom guessed it provided central heating through the heavy cast iron radiators they had seen in many of the rooms upstairs. To their right there was another wooden door. Like the first one it was closed. Tom moved up to it and cautiously tried the doorknob. The door was locked but as he let go of it, they both heard a noise from the other side of the door. Tom and Sally both moved back and looked at each other nervously.  
     “Did you hear that?” Tom spoke in a whisper.  
     “Yeah. Could be a rat or something.”  
     “Didn’t sound much like a rat to me. Look, you go and check on Sam. Tell her where we are and what we’ve heard. I’ll stay here but won’t do anything until you get back.”  
     “OK. I’ll be as quick as I can.” Sally left and Tom suddenly felt very much alone. He put his ear to the door but heard nothing further. Sally returned to say that Sam had seen no sign of any goblins. Tom nodded and shone his torch at the locked door.  
     “I don’t think there are Goblins in there,” he whispered. “I mean, why would they lock themselves in. That makes no sense but...”  
     “Hermione, Ron and Harry?”  
     “Exactly. Well, there’s only one thing for it!” Tom stepped up to the door and knocked. There was a scuffling noise and then someone within replied with a reciprocal knock. Tom and Sally looked at each other and then Sally went up to the door and spoke.  
     “Hello, hello. It’s Tom and Sally out here. Who’s there?”  
     “Ron here and we aren’t half glad to hear you!”  
     “Are you OK?”  
     “Yeah, we’re OK. Can you unlock the door?”  
     “There’s no key in the lock. I’ll have a look around.” Sally moved away from the door and she and Tom began searching the cellar. There was no sign of a key anywhere and they relayed this news through the door”  
     “What do we do now?” Tom asked.  
     “I don’t know,” It was Hermione’s voice they heard this time. “If I had a wand I could get the door open but the goblins took our wands so that’s not an option.”  
     “We’ve got a couple.” Sally looked at Tom. “They’re in your back pack. Hold still and I’ll get Peggy’s out. We don’t know that Bathilda’s is any good after being stuck in a flower pot for years.” She undid the flap, put her hand in and pulled out the wand Peggy had lent them. She gave it to Tom who looked at it before turning back to the door.  
     “I’m just going to pass it under the door, then we’re going to stand well back while one of you open the door with it because they’ll probably be some sort of explosion, knowing you lot!”  
     “Explosion’s a bit of an exaggeration, Tom, but yes, stand well back.” Harry’s voice came from the other side of the door.  
     OK? Here it comes.” Tom knelt down and pushed the wand under the door where luckily there was a wide enough gap to allow him to do this without damaging it. He felt someone take hold of it and it disappeared from view. He stood up and grabbing Sally’s hand backed away towards the far wall. This was just as well because within a few seconds there was a loud bang and a bright light was briefly visible under the door before it flew open, surrounded by a cloud of what looked like coal dust. Before this had settled Hermione, Ron and Harry appeared and when they saw Tom and Sally, ran towards them. Hermione hugged Sally and Harry and Ron thumped Tom on the back.  
     “We aren’t half glad to see you!” Ron sounded very relieved. “I really thought we were all goners!”  
     “It was clever of you to work out what our message said,” added Harry. “We had no time to write anything else but Hermione was sure you’d do it and she was right…as always!” He looked at Ron who nodded and grinned and seemed about to ask something when there was the noise of someone coming down the cellar steps. A frightened-looking Sam appeared.  
     “They’re coming back,” she gasped. “I’ve seen the Goblins coming up the street towards the house!”


	8. Chapter 8

  
Sunday 31st May

In which they all manage to escape

    Nobody moved as the implication of what Sam had told them sank in. Then Hermione, who still had hold of Peggy’s wand, moved purposefully towards the cellar steps but stopped and turned when Harry called after her.  
     “They’ve all got wands, remember. You won’t stand a chance!”  
     “Have you got a better idea?”  
     “Harry may not have one but I have. Hang on.” This came from Tom who quickly stepped into the room where Hermione Ron and Harry had been locked up. He shone his torch around before turning back to face the others who had crowded in the doorway to see what he was up to.  
     “Hermione, take Sally’s wand and go and do something to the door under the stairs and to the one into the first cellar. Can you make it difficult for the goblins to get through?”  
     “Yeah, I can but I won’t be able to stop them completely. They have wands and can use them to open doors like I’ve just done.”  
     “I know but if you can just hold them up that would help. Go and do it quickly and then come back. The rest of us, in here…quick!”  
     “Tom this is mad!” Sam grabbed his arm. “We’ll be trapped like they were!”  
     “I don’t think so. Come on.”  
     Hermione returned and Tom beckoned her in, closed the door and and asked her to use the wand on it. This she did before turning back to Tom, a questioning look on her face. They were all sharing the same thought. They were now shut in the room and at any moment the goblins would be through the doors and standing outside. Tom, however, when he spoke, sounded quite calm.  
     “The coal hole. I’ve checked it’s in here and it is…look.” He shone his torch on the far wall and sure enough, above a small heap of coal was a brick-lined shaft a couple of feet wide, leading upwards at an angle of about forty-five degrees.  
     “We can get out that way,” Tom continued, “while the goblins are in the house trying to get to us; or rather Hermione, Harry and Ron because they don’t know we’re here. We do have a bit of a problem if there are some of them outside but if they are the same lot as before, we know they all came in the house because we looked out the window and saw them enter. As soon as we hear them in the first cellar, we go out through the coal hole. Ron, you go first and as soon you’re out make for the Underground Station as fast as you can. Cross the road and there’s a sign showing you which way to go. Don’t forget to leave the manhole cover off. Sally, you go next then Hermione and Sam. I’ll go last and put the manhole cover back on. We’ll all meet by the ticket barrier. Is that OK with everyone?”  
     There were no objections but as Ron started towards the coal chute but Tom stopped him.  
     “Hang on, Ron. They may still be outside the house. Wait until we hear them trying to get into the cellar.” Ron nodded and moved back. They all fell silent, listening. After what seemed an age, they heard a noise that sounded like a door being rattled followed by a loud bang and then voices, unmistakably those of the goblins.  
     “Right,” hissed Tom. “Off you go Ron and try to be as quiet as possible.”  
     Ron scrambled up the coal chute, using his feet against the brickwork to get some purchase and disappeared from view. They heard scraping sounds as he made his way up and then the sound of the manhole cover being lifted off and light and a draught of fresh air entering the cellar. Tom let out a sigh of relief. He had been worried not only about some of the goblins remaining outside but also about the manhole cover being difficult to shift.  
Sally went up after Ron, followed by Hermione and Sam. When the last of them had disappeared from view Tom clambered over the heap of coal and pushed himself up into the shaft. As he did so he was aware of noises outside the door and the sound of those by now all-too -familiar guttural voices. He pushed his way up the shaft quickly - it was not as hard as he feared - and in a few moments reached the top and put his hands on the rim of the manhole cover. He hauled himself out and looked around quickly. There was no one in sight. Heaving another sigh of relief, he quickly and quietly replaced the manhole cover and set off towards the underground station as fast as he could go.


	9. Chapter 9

  
Monday 1st June

In which they all return to Steyning

    “So, you were in there all the time, hiding in the cellar?”  
     The six of them were crowded into the sitting room of Saxon Cottage the following morning, cups of tea and biscuits to hand and Peggy Deys very anxious to have all the details about what had been happening to them. It was Ron who replied to her question.  
     “Yeah, we were. When the goblins first appeared, we hid down there and the silly idiots didn’t think to look. But then they came back a second time, found us and locked us in. If it hadn’t been for Sam, Sally and Tom, we’d still be there, starving to death!”  
     “I don’t think so, Ron. They were looking for us and would probably have dragged us off somewhere and…” Hermione left the sentence hanging and no one volunteered to finish it. The three of them were obviously very thankful for their escape and the fact that they had managed, as far as they could tell, to get to the Angel underground station without being seen. On the train, they had discussed what to do next. Sam, Sally and Tom decided to go down to Steyning and suggested the others go with them. Ron wanted to go to Diagon Alley to see if his brother George was alright but Hermione thought it was too dangerous until they knew more about what was going on and who - or what - they were up against. Harry suggested they go to Hogwarts but Hermione said the same argument applied so in the end the three of them agreed to go down to Steyning with Sam, Sally and Tom.  
     When they arrived, they all went over to the boarding house which was virtually empty save for a few overseas students who had difficulty getting home or to their guardians because of half term being brought forward owing to the floods and storm damage which had led to the school being closed. Mrs. Macdonald, the matron, looked up from her desk in the surgery in Bennett’s boarding house when Sam put her head round the door and asked if their three friends could stay in the boarding house overnight. At first, she was unhappy about letting comparative strangers stay but when she was introduced and saw they state they were in - clothes torn and covered in coal dust - and how exhausted they looked, she relented and agreed they could stay overnight. She told them to wait where they were and disappeared into the room next door to the surgery. She returned a few minutes later carrying an armful of clothing, mainly jeans, T-shirts and socks. She explained that this was all lost property which had never been claimed and they were welcome to it. Hermione, Harry and Ron took the clothes gratefully.  
     Sam, Sally and Tom were relieved that Mrs MacDonald didn’t ask any searching questions about where they’d been as it would have been very difficult to answer at all truthfully. However, they all felt instinctively some sort of explanation was called for. It fell to Tom to say they had met their friends in London where they were having difficulties getting up to their school in Scotland. He mentioned that the various disasters happening up and down the country were probably to blame and explained they had all got dirty going down into the cellar of a friend’s house because the boiler wasn’t working. He knew this was some way off the truth but Mrs. Macdonald nodded and suggested Tom take Harry and Ron up to the top floor of Bennett’s and Sam and Sally take Hermione over to Wykeham House. She also informed them the school remained closed and parents and guardians were being informed about arrangements being made with other schools regarding lessons and, most importantly, examinations.  
     Following a very welcome and much-needed shower, all six of them had slept very soundly that night and had awakened feeling much refreshed. Mrs. Macdonald had told them they could have breakfast in the dining room so after a mug of tea, cereal, eggs, bacon and toast, they had walked up School Lane and crossed Church Street to Saxon Cottage.  
     “So, what do you think’s going on?” asked Peggy when they had told her all about what had happened in Grimmauld Place.  
     “We really don’t know,” replied Hermione. “One possibility is that the goblins have made the most of the problems caused by Riddle and rebelled. I think we can assume it was them that that broke into Mr Ollivander’s shop and stole his wands. Where is he, by the way, Peggy?”  
     “He went back to Diagon Alley a couple of days ago.”  
     “That doesn’t sound a very good idea.” Hermione looked worriedly at Harry and Ron as she spoke and they nodded.  
     “That’s what I said,” replied Peggy, “But we wouldn’t listen. He was worried about break-ins.”  
     “That’s a bit like shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted!” added Sam.  
     “My words exactly but he insisted on going. I do hope he’s alright with all these goblins on the loose...”  
     “… and carrying his wands by the sound of things!” Tom turned to Hermione. “Why don’t they have them already - wands I mean? They’re part of your wizarding community, aren’t they? They run the bank in Diagon Alley, don’t they?”  
     “That’s right Tom, they are and they do but they aren’t allowed wands. In the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, there were serious goblin rebellions over them wanting to be fully accepted into the wizarding society and carry wands. These were put down but the problem has never really gone away.”  
     “Who decided they couldn’t have them?” asked Sam.  
     “The Ministry of Magic,” Harry jumped in with the answer. “That’s the institution that controls and regulates the wizarding world. Since 1631, it has been illegal for anyone other than witches or wizards to own or use a wand. That’s right isn’t it Hermione?”  
“Yes, the Wand Ban of 1631 but it would have been the International Confederation of Wizards, not the Ministry of Magic bringing in the law. Anyway, it’s good to know that you were sometimes listening in class!” Harry grinned and looked at Ron who punched him on the arm as Hermione continued speaking.  
     “In 1692, witches and wizards were given the right to carry wands at all times, basically to protect themselves. There was a lot of Muggle persecution at that time.”  
     “Yeah, that’s right!” Tom sounded anxious to show off some knowledge. “There was a lot of persecution then, especially of women suspected of being witches. There was even a Witchfinder General appointed specifically to seek them out and if found guilty, hang them or burn them at the stake; but none of our history books mention anything about what you’ve just told us.”  
     “No, they wouldn’t, Tom. One of the main jobs of the Ministry of Magic - perhaps its main job - is to keep the wizarding world secret from the Muggle one.  
     “Your dad told us something about this.” Sam looked at Ron as she spoke. “He was telling us about somebody called Willy Widdershins and exploding toilets.”  
     “That’s one of his favourite stories. We’ve heard it hundreds of times, haven’t we Harry?”  
     “Yeah, always makes me laugh.” Sally saw Hermione glare at Harry and Ron and steered the subject back to goblins.  
     “But why would they be rebelling right now?”  
     “I don’t know but like I said, it would be a good time to do so. I mean, we’ve all been involved in a war with Riddle, people have been killed, parts of Hogwarts destroyed. With many of us exhausted and disorganised, it’s the perfect time to rebel. The big question for me is who is behind it.”  
     “You mean a sort of goblin chief?” asked Sam.  
     “Not necessarily. I think someone is helping them, someone’s behind this rebellion but I don’t think he’s necessarily a goblin.”  
     “Here we go again!” Harry was on his feet and sounded angry. “She’s going to tell us Riddle is not dead, he’s come back to life again and is stirring up more trouble by getting them to revolt!”  
     “Well…”  
     “For the last time, Hermione, he’s dead – D. E. A. D.! I killed him! You were there and saw what happened. There’s no way…” Before Harry could continue his tirade, Ron reached out and took his friend’s arm.  
     “Come on mate, calm down. No point in getting worked up, eh? She’s only thinking out loud, aren’t you, Hermy?”  
    “Yeah, I am, and there are two other things that puzzle me. One is why we three still seem to be targeted. I mean, the goblins are going after us, aren’t they. How did they know we’d be at Grimmauld Place?” She looked up at Harry. “Riddle targeted us because of you. He knew about the prophecy and had to kill you. As Ron and I were your friends, we became involved. Now it seems we are still being targeted and I don’t know why.”  
     “I can think of a couple of reasons why the goblins don’t like us!” Harry sat down but still seemed cross. “We were the ones that destroyed parts of Gringotts when we escaped on their dragon, taking a lot of the roof with us on the way out. Then there was that business with Griphook and Gryffindor’s sword. They’ve good reason to hate us and maybe that’s why they’re coming after us.”  
     “I agree, Harry, but I still think they’re being led by someone and since you mentioned Riddle, as you well know he nearly died when he tried to kill you but he came back, didn’t he.”  
     Harry made some sort of indeterminate noise, something like a snort, and muttered something under his breath.  
     No one spoke for a bit, Sam, Tom and Sally wondering what dragons, swords and someone with the strange name of Griphook had to do with anything; and Sam was on the point of asking when Peggy suddenly go to her feet and disappeared out of the room, returning a few moments later with a newspaper in her hand.  
     “It was all this talk of Riddle being dead and buried – well, the buried bit anyway - that reminded me,” she said excitedly.  
     “I don’t actually know anything about him being buried but he’s certainly dead!” Harry had calmed down a bit but still sounded cross. Peggy ignored him and waved a newspaper in the air.  
     “This is last week’s edition of the Shoreham Herald and there’s an article in it that caught my eye. It mentions the church in Hangleton.” Peggy looked over at Sam, Sally and Tom. “A month ago, you told Ginny and me you all went there after visiting a Mr. Allbright who lived close by. That’s right isn’t it, Sally?”  
     “Yeah, it is. I thought he might be a relation of mine but he wasn’t. He asked us to take some flowers up to his son’s grave in St. Helen’s churchyard on our way back to Steyning.”  
     “Well, there’s an article here about a grave there that nobody knows anything about!”  
     “We saw it!” This came from an excited-sounding Tom. “It was getting dark and we were standing by Mr. Allbright’s son’s grave and I heard a noise over by that Angel of Death tomb. We couldn’t see much but something strange was going on. I remember a very bright light and then shortly afterwards it all went quiet and we went over to have a look and found what looked like a freshly-dug grave.”  
     “Sounds like the one described here. Let me read what it says.” Peggy got up to retrieve a pair of glasses from the mantle shelf, put them on and sat back down in her chair. “Right, where was it?” She turned over a few pages before she found what she wanted:

_Mystery Burial in Hangleton Churchyard_

_Police were called to St. Helen’s church in Hangleton on Wednesday 6th May when the vicar, the Rev. John Phelps, reported a freshly-dug grave he knew nothing about. He explained there had been a burial the week before but the grave was over the other side of the churchyard and definitely not the one over by the very distinctive tomb that many of his parishioners view with some trepidation. He had consulted with his staff but no one knew anything about it, nor could they be sure when it first appeared.”_ Peggy stopped reading and looked up but before she could say anything further, Hermione spoke, looking hard at Sam, Sally and Tom.

    “Sam, Tom, Sally, when exactly were you in the churchyard?”  
     “Early May,” replied Sam.  
     “It was a Saturday,” added Tom.  
     “Yes, but when exactly?”  
     “It must have been Saturday 2nd May,” put in Sally, “and we were there in the evening.”  
     “Are you absolutely sure about that?”  
     “Yes.” Sally looked at Sam and Tom and both nodded. “Yes, definitely 2nd May. Why?”  
     “Well...” Hermione was looking at Harry as she spoke and with an expression that had, possibly, the hint of an apology in it. “That was the very day that Riddle was killed by Harry up at Hogwarts.”


	10. Chapter 10

  
Monday 1st June

In which some or all manage to escape

    “He’s dead but you just can’t accept it, can you!”  
     “I don’t disbelieve you, Harry. It’s just that…well…you know what happened before. This grave….do you think…?” Hermione sounded uncharacteristically hesitant. Sam came to her rescue.  
     “Are you suggesting this grave could have something to do with Riddle? I mean, if Harry killed him up at Hogwarts up in Scotland, that’s hundreds of miles away from Hangleton - sorry Little Hangleton - where we saw that grave.”  
     “His family came from there so it’s possible that he... that someone took his body down there and buried him near the family tomb. In the wizarding world, distance is not necessarily a problem” Hermione looked at Harry and Ron and they both nodded.  
     “Is that the Angle of Death?” asked Sam. “We saw the name Riddle on it, didn’t we Tom. We thought it said Roddle at first.”  
     “Yeah, that’s right, we did.”  
     “Yes, that’s the family tomb,” continued Hermione “and did you notice the big house just up the hill from the churchyard?”  
     “Can’t say we did,” replied Tom. “Whose is it?”  
     “It used to belong to the Riddle family. The Tom Riddle we’ve been talking about, the one who called himself Voldemort, was named after his father who lived there.  
     “His mother was Merope Gaunt, wasn’t she?” This came from Sally. “Did she live there as well?”  
     “Yes she did. The Gaunts lived quite close to the Riddles in Little Hangleton but in much poorer circumstances. The family, Marvolo and his two children Morfin and Merope basically lived in a shack.”  
     “So...Tom Riddle senior _shacked up_ with this Merope girl, then.”  
     “Nice one, Tom!” This came from Ron who was grinning broadly.  
     “Don’t encourage him,” put in Sam. “Sally and I have to put up with these sorts of comments all the time! Anyway, we’ve heard all this before when Mr. Ollivander was here. Tom Riddle landed up in an orphanage, didn’t he, and then went to Hogwarts when he turned eleven?”  
     “That’s right. We know quite a bit about his life but by no means everything and now there’s the mystery of this newly-dug grave and the fact that it could have appeared on May 2nd, the day he was ... killed.” As she said this, Hermione looked at Harry who nodded but didn’t say anything. Ron punched his arm affectionately and then frowned.  
     “What do they call it when the Muggle police dig up a grave because they suspect a murder or something?”  
     “Disinterment?” suggested Tom, hopefully.  
     “I think it’s usually called an exhumation, actually.” Sam looked at Peggy for confirmation.  
     “You’re both right,” replied Peggy tactfully, “but exhumation is the more usual term, I believe; and before you ask, there is no mention of one in the article but this is last week’s edition so there might be something in this week’s. One of you could go up the high street and get a copy.”  
     “I’ll go.” Sally got to her feet. “I could do with a bit of fresh air. She felt in her pocket for some change but Peggy got there before her.  
     “Take this. I always have a local paper anyway but what with all the excitement, I didn’t get around to buying one this week.”  
     Sally took the pound coin Peggy held out to her and went to the front door and opened it. What she saw took her by surprise. Although it was still quite early, it was very dark with a lowering sky and a fierce wind threatening to tear the leaves from the chestnut trees over towards the church. She closed the door behind her and hurried up Church Street towards the newsagent in the High Street.  
     “Hope you haven’t got far to go.” This came from the shopkeeper spoke as he handed her the newspaper and her change. “It looks as if we’re in for a bad storm any minute. Funny weather we’ve been having lately what with the floods and all.”  
     “Thanks but I’ll be alright. It’s only just round the corner.”  
     As she left the shop, Sally tucked the paper in the waistband of her jeans and covered it with her jumper to keep it dry. Since she had left Saxon Cottage, it had become even darker, the sort of darkness that at this time of the day was usually associated with a full eclipse of the sun. Large raindrops now began splashing on to the pavement and the road and the wind was approaching gale force. Sally felt uneasy and her uneasiness turned to fear as she looked down the High Street towards the clock tower. About a hundred yards away beyond it, a group of what she took to be children were coming towards her. Thinking it rather strange that St. Andrews Primary School pupils would be out in this weather; and then remembering in the next second that the school was closed owing to the floods, Sally looked more closely at the approaching group and then turned and fled, not stopping until she reached Saxon Cottage where she hammered on the door, practically falling into the hall when Peggy opened it.  
     “Goblins!” This one word brought everyone to their feet. Peggy moved swiftly to the two windows in the sitting room and closed the curtains.  
     “Are you sure?”  
     “Yeah, I’m sure. At first I thought they were children but what would they be doing out in this weather and besides, the primary school is closed and ...”  
     Whatever Sally was about to add was drowned out by a loud clap of thunder which had been preceded by a bright flash of lightening. The rain intensified and beat against the window panes. Sam took hold of Tom’s arm as Harry went over to the window and cautiously parted the curtain a fraction and peered out. He then quickly withdrew his head, pulled the curtains together and turned to look at the expectant faces before him. He looked scared.  
     “Sally’s right. They are goblins and they are right outside and...”  
     “And what, Harry?” Hermione spoke in a whisper.  
     “And ... there’s something else out there. I can sort of sense it. I don’t know...” Instinctively, Harry reached up to his forehead and felt the spot where his lightening-shaped scar had been, the one, at Ron’s prompting, he had earlier shown to Sam, Sally and Tom.  
     “Oh no, Harry, it’s not...?” Hermione took a step towards Harry. “You don’t...?  
     “No, it’s OK but there is someone...something out there.”  
     “How have they found us?” As he spoke Ron was looking wildly round the room as if the answer was there. “We gave them the slip, didn’t we? We got out of the...what did you call it, Tom?”  
     “Coal hole.”  
     “Yeah, that’s right. We got out of the coal hole without being seen and there were no goblins at the underground station were there! So how come the blighters know we’re here?”  
     “We don’t know that they didn’t see us, Ron” suggested Sally. “Some of them might have been looking out of the windows and they might not all have come into the house.”  
     “We’ve got to get out of here.” This came from Hermione. “They’ve all got wands and we only have one.”  
     “Two actually.” Sally looked at Tom. “Look in your back pack. We still have the one Peggy lent us and the one holding up my plant. Peggy, I’m sorry, I never gave yours back.”  
     “That’s alright, my dear. I’m glad it’s being put to good use after so many years. Hang on to it.”  
     “Even with two wands, we wouldn’t stand a chance.” Hermione looked at Peggy. “Is there a way out the back?”  
     “The backdoor leads into a small garden but it is enclosed by a fence and a hedge.”  
     “Apparate?” This came from Ron. Sam, Sally and Tm had never heard this word but guessed it involved getting from one place to another.  
     “Too dangerous, especially if there is someone...something else out there.” Hermione looked at Harry as she spoke.  
     “Floo powder?”  
     “Still risky, Ron.”  
     For another minute they talked through the limited options open to them. It was the banging on the door that galvanised them into action. Tom passed Hermione Peggy’s wand and checked Bathilda’s was in his back pack. Peggy passed Ron the tin of Floo powder she kept on the mantle shelf. One after the other, the three of them stepped into the fireplace and the by now familiar green flames, said ‘to the Leaky Cauldron’ loudly and clearly and then vanished. They left Sam, Tom and Sally standing anxiously by the fireplace, not moving. The brief discussion about what to do had not turned on whether or not they should accompany their friends. It was Peggy who made up their minds.  
     “Go! Now! From what you tell me, the goblins may know what you look like and probably how you helped them escape from Grimmauld Place. You are in danger, too. Follow them and if you get a chance, let me know how Garrick is. I’m worried about him. Like me, he’s getting on a bit. I’ll hang on to Pigwidgeon. He might come in useful for getting in touch. Go! Quickly! Now!”  
     Needing no further prompting and hearing again a hammering on the door, accompanied by the now-familiar guttural voices, they stepped into the fireplace and one by one vanished just as Peggy heard the sound of splintering wood and the front door being pushed open.


	11. Chapter 11

  
Monday 1st June

In which some difficult decisions are made

    “What are you lot doing here?”  
     Harry’s voice was a mixture of surprise and annoyance. “You shouldn’t have come, that wasn’t the plan. This isn’t your problem and it’s dangerous. Go back to Peggy while you have the  
chance.” His tone softened as he continued. “We’re really grateful for all your help, especially getting us out of Grimmauld Place but we really don’t want you taking any more risks.”  
     The six of them were seated at the large wooden table in The Leaky Cauldron and, especially in the case of Sam, Sally and Tom, recovering from the effects of using Floo powder once again. The sensation of travelling at great speed from one chimney to another was not a pleasant one. There were no signs of any goblins but the place was deserted which Hermione thought worrying. They’d searched the room, looked behind the bar and in an adjacent kitchen. They’d gone upstairs where, Harry remembered, there were bedrooms. He mentioned he had once stayed here overnight but didn’t elaborate. There was no sign of anyone anywhere.  
     In reply to Harry’s comments about returning to Saxon Cottage, Tom told him Peggy thought it was just as dangerous for them to go back as the goblins might have seen them at some point and be after them, too. Sam told Tom she was concerned for Peggy’s safety and felt she was now in as much danger as they were. Sally agreed with her and said the three of them ought to go back and see how she was. After further discussion, Tom came up with a solution.  
     “Why don’t I go back and see if she’s alright.”  
     “What, all by yourself, you mean?” This came from Ron.  
     “Yeah.”  
     “Too risky, mate. What if the goblins are still there? They have wands, remember, and you’re just one of those defenceless Muggles!”  
     “Thank you, Ron!”  
     “You’re welcome.”  
     “Defenceless I may be but Sam and Sally are right, Peggy might be in danger. I’ll go and see how she is. I’ll come straight back if all’s well and if not...well...” Tom didn’t have an answer  
here and Sam was quick to spot it.  
     “If not what? What if something happens to you? How will we know what’s going on? I really think the three of us should go.”  
     “I’ll be alright, Sam and as for letting you know what’s going on, I’ve just had a thought.” Tom turned to Ron.  
     “Would Pigwidgeon be able to find his way here?”  
     “Yeah, he should be able to do that. I mean he’s not the youngest or fastest owl around but, yeah, that’s what he’s for…why?”  
     “Backup. If there’s a problem, I’ll have a way to let you know what’s going on.”  
     “What if he’s not there?” Sam still sounded doubtful.  
     “I’m sure he will be.”  
     Before she or any of the others could say anything further, Tom stood up, put on his back pack and went over to the fireplace. He took down the tin from the mantle shelf and threw a pinch of Floo powder into the grate. The green flames appeared and he quickly stepped into them. He turned and waved to everyone before saying ‘To Saxon Cottage’ loudly and clearly and then vanished. The others looked at one another and then back at the empty fireplace. Nobody said anything.  
Five minutes passed and then another five. There was no sign of Tom. Sam got up and went over to the fireplace, peering into the grate and up the chimney with a worried expression on her face. Sally got up and joined her, putting a supportive arm round her shoulder. A few more minutes passed and then just as they turned to walk back to the table there was a whooshing sound and Tom appeared, surrounded by a cloud of ash and dust. He stepped shakily out into the room, brushing the dirt off his clothes. Five expectant and questioning faces looked up at him.  
     “She’s not there, she’s gone. Peggy’s gone.” Tom slumped down in a chair and looked round at everyone. “There was no sign of a struggle or anything like that but the front door was open and has been damaged. It looks like the goblins have got her. I went over to the boarding house, found Mrs. Priestly the Church Street caretaker and she gave me a piece of wood and some nails. I’ve made the door secure and asked Peggy’s neighbour to keep an eye on the cottage and her cat. She told me she has a key and that it was no problem. Oh, Ron, present for you!” Tom took off his back pack, undid the straps and carefully pulled out Pigwidgeon.”  
     “Ah, there you are my beauty!” Ron held out his arm and the owl flew over and landed clumsily on it before transferring himself to Ron’s shoulder where he nibbled his ear. Ron stroked his back affectionately.  
     “I’ve also brought along some of the parrot food Peggy bought for him.” Tom put his hand once again in the back pack and pulled out a bag of seed. “Oh, and I grabbed the Floo powder tin and brought it along. I didn’t want any goblins following me!”  
     “But that means...”  
     “I know, Sam, I know. It means Peggy can’t use the chimney but if the goblins have her, and it looks as if they do, then she can’t use it anyway.”  
     “I wish you’d brought her back with you.” Sam looked at Hermione. “Where do you think they’ve taken her?”  
     “I’ve no idea and I wonder if Mr. Ollivander’s alright. Peggy said he was going back to his shop in Diagon Alley.”  
     “Tell you what,” Ron suddenly stood up. “Why don’t I go and check up on him. I really need to see if George is OK and his joke shop is just up from Mr. Ollivander’s. You all stay here and I’ll be back soon. Oh, and I’ll need one of the wands to get into Diagon Alley and for a bit of protection.”  
     “Have this one.” Hermione passed him the one Peggy had lent them. “We know it works. We don’t know what sort of condition the one from Sally’s flower pot is in; and Ron, please look after yourself and don’t go and do anything stupid like taking on a bunch of goblins.”  
     “Think I’m daft or something? ‘course I won’t. See you all soon.” Ron stood up and walked towards the back of the room before returning with a foolish grin on his face and passing Pigwidgeon, still perched on his shoulder, to Harry. He then retraced his steps towards the door that led into the back yard where, Sam, Sally and Tom remembered, there was a wall which gave access to Diagon Alley when some of the bricks were tapped in the right order with a wand.  
     “Anyone want a drink?” Harry had stood up and was making for the bar. “I’m sure Tom won’t mind and we can settle up when we see him.” Seeing a confused look on Tom’s face he went on to explain he meant the old barman, also called Tom.”  
     “Yeah, I remember now.” Tom looked a bit embarrassed.  
     At the back of the bar Harry found some bottles and brought them over to the table before returning to fetch some glasses.  
     “Butterbeer,” he explained. “Don’t worry, it’s not really beer like you Muggles know it. It does contain some alcohol but very little and is very refreshing - just what we all need!” He unscrewed the bottle tops and filled the glasses before passing them along the table.  
     After drinking some of the sweet-tasting and frothy liquid, they all did indeed begin to feel more relaxed after the stresses of the past few days. The big questions, however, still remained. They had no idea what was going on and why the goblins seemed to be after them. They also did not know what they were going to do once - if - Ron returned. Furthermore, the vexed question of what had happened to Riddle still stood between Hermione and Harry, the former with doubts as to whether he was actually dead and the latter assuring every one that he was. Sam, Sally and Tom sensed that despite their differing opinions, the two of them were still as close to each other as ever and either would risk all for the other. This was also true of Ron.  
They all sat quietly at the table sipping their drinks and glancing nervously every few minutes across the room to the door in the corner. There was still no sign of Ron and he had now been gone for nearly three quarters of an hour. Another ten minutes passed before Harry put down his glass and stood up.  
     “I’m going after him. It’s been too long.”  
     “Harry, I don’t think....” Hermione began.  
     “Something’s happened to him.”  
     “Let me go then, if...”  
     “...if Riddle’s still alive then I’m in more danger than you. Is that what you’re thinking?”  
     “Well, we don’t know and...”  
     “Hermy...” As the others looked on, Harry gently took her hand and looked into her worried face. “Whether or not Riddle’s still alive – and I don’t think for one minute that he is -Ron’s our friend, more than a friend. He’s part of my...our family, isn’t he? He’s risked his life for us on more than one occasion. Remember the chess game? We can’t just leave him.”  
     “Of course not, Harry, and of course I’ve not forgotten that chess game. How could I! I think he expected to die but he still did what he did.”  
     “There you are, then.”  
     “Let me come with you.”  
     “No, you stay here with Sam, Sally and Tom.”  
     “Well...”  
     “One for all and all for one!” Tom stood up and took hold of Harry’s arm. “Come Porthos, Aramis to the rescue!” Before anyone had a chance to say anything, Tom grabbed a bewildered-looking Harry and propelled him towards the back door. However, they’d been gone only a few moments when there was the familiar whooshing sound and three heads swivelled from the door to the fireplace where a dazed-looking Peggy appeared before stepping cautiously out of it. She waved to her friends before turning her attention back to the fireplace where, a moment later, Mr. Ollivander appeared, followed closely by Ron. The three of them made their way towards the table, Ron helping the old wand maker who appeared a little shaken. They had scarcely sat down before Hermione was on her feet and running towards the back door. She returned a minute later with Harry and Tom. She explained she had caught them just in time, Harry in the middle of using the wand on the bricks to gain entry to Diagon Alley. She added she had used her wand on the back door to make it harder for anyone to get in.  
     “Well! What a to-do!” This came from Peggy when they were all seated and Harry had fetched more bottles of Butterbeer and two glasses from behind the bar. She turned to Mr. Ollivander. “Are you alright, Garrick? You look a bit shaken.”  
     “Yes thank you Peggy. Travelling from chimney to chimney has never been my favourite mode of travel; nor, come to that, is flying around on a broomstick or risking being splinched while apparating. It’s probably heretical to say it but I would probably much prefer the Muggle forms of transport!”  
     “Well, if you do get the chance to ride in one of their cars, don’t let Ron drive!” Noticing the puzzled looks on the faces of Peggy, Mr. Ollivander, Sam, Sally and Tom, Harry explained that Ron’s father, Arthur Weasley, had once purchased a Ford Anglia and taken it to bits to see how it worked. In the process he had bewitched it so it could fly. Ron, he told them, had borrowed it without permission to enable the two of them to get to Hogwarts. This had resulted in a great deal of trouble, not to mention nearly getting themselves killed.  
     Following this digression, they all wanted to know what had been happening to Peggy. She explained that after Sam, Sally and Tom had left Saxon Cottage she knew it would only be a matter of moments before the goblins broke in. Acting quickly, she had thrown some Floo powder into the grate and because Mr Ollivander had told her his chimney was connected to the Floo network and Ollivander’s Diagon Alley were the words she should use to reach his shop, she had decided to go there rather than follow the others to The Leakey Cauldron.  
     “I had only seconds to decide,” she explained, “and I was worried about him.”  
     “It was just as well she came,” added Mr. Ollivander. “I was essentially a prisoner in my own shop with no means of defending myself because the goblins, as you know, have taken all my wands. They are all over Diagon Alley and had not Peggy and then Mr. Weasley turned up, I’m sure they would have broken into my shop again and ...” Mr Ollivander shuddered and took another sip of his butterbeer.  
     “He’s right,” put in Ron. “They’re everywhere! I had to dodge in and out of shop doorways and dive down alleyways to avoid them. It looks as if everyone else has left and many of the shops have been broken into and looted.”  
     “What about George?” This came from Harry.  
     “Not there. The shop was all locked up and there was no sign of him. I’ve got a key and when I got in I found a note.”  
“What, just sitting there for anyone to read?”  
“Not exactly, Hermy. I actually nearly missed it. I was about to leave when I noticed a display of Wildfire Whizz Bangs by the door. There was a wand just visible, poking out from them. I thought this was odd. It’s not at all like George to be sloppy with displays. They were always neatly set up and anyway I helped him with that one and the wand definitely wasn’t there then.”  
“Did you bring it with you? Another one would come in handy.” This came from Harry.  
“No, because it was one of his fake ones. You use it and it gives off a terrible smell or goes bang and disappears - that sort of thing. Anyway, I picked it up and was going to put it with the other fake wands at the back of the shop when it gave off a lot of smoke which formed itself into words which spelt out…hang on, I wrote it down.” Ron felt in the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a slip of paper and read out the words scribbled on it:

_Gone to Hogwarts, only safe place so you should do same. Ginny and parents there. Beware goblins. Ministry has fallen. George_

    There was a silence as everyone took in this information.  
     “Was that all, Ron? Nothing else?” This came from Hermione.  
     “No, that was it.”  
     “So maybe he thinks the goblins have caused the ministry to fall. I can’t see it, I really can’t.”  
     “You still think someone is behind all this?”  
     “Yes, Harry, I do.”  
     “Who is it?”  
     “I don’t know. I’ve no idea. If Riddle is dead and buried, it might be one of his more powerful followers, people like Lucius Malfoy or Dolores Umbridge.”  
     “Could be but...” Harry didn’t finish what he was going to say because Peggy interrupted him.  
     “Dead and buried! That’s the phrase we used down in Saxon Cottage! What with all the excitement it completely slipped my mind! Have you still got it, Sally?”  
     Sally looked a bit confused for a moment then her face brightened and she felt under her jumper and produced a crumpled newspaper from the waistband of her jeans. She passed it to Peggy who explained to Mr. Ollivander about last week’s local newspaper article concerning a mysterious grave that appeared in a churchyard in Hangleton.  
     “There may not be a follow-up to the story,” she added excitedly, “but let’s have a look.” She opened the paper and started leafing through it. The others looked on expectantly as she turned the pages, arriving at the sports pages at the back before looking up, a disappointed expression on her face.  
     “That’s a shame. There doesn’t appear to be one after all but I’ll have another look through in case I missed something” Peggy turned to the front page and started leafing through again. When she reached the middle, she paused, turned back two pages and peered more closely before looking up and smiling.  
     “Missed it! It’s here all along but the heading is misleading.”  
     “What is it?” asked Tom.  
     “It’s a bit silly really! It says _The Plot Thickens_!”  
     “Wicked!” Tom grinned and looked at Sam who shook her head sadly. _“The Thop Plickens_ ,” he added, “as Mrs. Malaprop would have said!”  
     “What are you on about, mate? You’ve lost me.”  
     “Never mind what he’s on about, Ron.” Hermione glared at the two boys. “What’s the article say, Peggy? Read it out, please.”

_Following the discovery of a freshly-dug grave in St. Helen’s church graveyard in Hangleton on Wednesday 6th May, the police applied for an exhumation after a statement by the vicar, the Rev. John Phelps saying he knew nothing about the burial. This was carried out on Friday 28th May and a few details have been released to the press. The body, we are told, is that of an adult male who appears to have died at some point between 25th April and 4th May of this year. That was the extent of the announcement but this paper has further details from an undisclosed source and understands that there are some aspects of the case which are puzzling. The body, we have learned, is that of a tall man of indeterminate age with what looks like some sort of facial deformity and a tattoo on his left arm. The cause of death has not yet been determined but there are what appear to be bruising and scorch marks over the upper part of his body which may indicate he did not die of natural causes. Forensic examination is continuing._

    Peggy stopped reading and put the newspaper down on the table in front of her. She looked up. Harry had folded his arms and was looking at the ceiling, casting quick glances at Hermione who was staring intently at the floor. No one said anything until Ron, who had been looking from one to the other, cleared his throat pointedly.  
     “It’s him, isn’t it, Harry! It’s the he-who-must...it’s Riddle!”  
     “Yeah, really sounds like it. Hermione?”  
     “I agree. The face, the body with bruises and burns from the duel, the Dark Mark on his left arm which would certainly look like a tattoo to those who wouldn’t know what it was. It all fits, including the timescale. Sorry for doubting you, Harry.”  
     “That’s OK. After all, like you said, he’d sort of died once before and he came back, didn’t he.”  
     “You killed him at Hogwarts, didn’t you?” Sally felt the need to deflect the conversation away from the direction it was heading.  
     “Yeah, that’s right.”  
     “Hogwarts is in Scotland, isn’t it, and Scotland is a long way from Hangleton - Little Hangleton - so I don’t see how...”  
     “I know what you’re thinking, but in the wizarding world, distance isn’t necessarily a problem, even if you are transporting a…a…dead body.” Harry stopped speaking and looked down, shaking his head gently from side to side. It was left to Ron to explain his obvious distress.  
     “Harry’s done it! He’s had to bring a body back from...well, from the same graveyard we’re talking about, the one in Little Hangleton!” There were gasps from Sam, Sally and Tom as Ron went on to explain about a competition between three wizarding schools called the Tri-wizard Competition, held four years ago at Hogwarts. He went on to tell them that Harry and a boy called Cedric Diggory had been chosen to represent the school and how they had been tricked by Voldemort into landing up in the graveyard. Cedric had been killed but Harry had managed to escape and bring his body back to the school using a portkey. Tom was about to ask what this was but saw that Harry continued to look distressed so he kept quiet. Neither Sam nor Sally added anything further and there was a brief silence during which Ron put an arm round Harry’s shoulder and Hermione got up and went to stand next to Ron behind Harry, putting her hand on his other shoulder causing Pigwidgeon to transfer himself to Ron’s arm. She looked over at the others.  
     “If George is right about the Ministry falling, then things are far worse than we think; and, OK Harry, I was wrong about Riddle but I still think someone is behind the goblins actions, motivating them with the promise of wands to do...to do what? What is this person’s goal?”  
     “Miss Granger...Hermione, if I may address you in this way.”  
     “Of course you can, Mr. Ollivander.”  
     “Well then...Hermione...what if it is simpler than you suppose. In the aftermath of the battle at Hogwarts when, as we now know, Riddle was killed, there was uncertainty and disarray. The goblins took advantage of the situation, raided my shop for wands and are now targeting all those they blame for hundreds of years or repression. The ministry would be a prime target because all the laws suppressing them originated there, at least in their eyes. They have sufficient motivation to be acting on their own.     Then there’s the question as to why they appear to be targetting you and...Ron and Harry...if I maybe so bold.”  
     “No problem, Mr. O.. Ron and Harry’s just fine.” Harry smiled at Mr. Ollivander and nudged Ron’s arm. Ron grinned.  
     “Thank you. As I was saying, you may continue to be a particular target of theirs because of the damage you did to Gringott’s and the escape of their dragon. Then there’s the question of the sword.” Mr. Ollivander turned to look at Peggy, Sam, Sally and Tom. “Godric Gryffindor, as I’m sure you know by now, was one of the founder members of Hogwarts and he had a goblin-made sword which possessed particular magical properties. Legend tells us he was accused of stealing it from Ragnuk the First, the goblin king at the time. Now, if I remember correctly Harry, the sword was in your possession when we were in Shell Cottage. You went to talk with the goblin Griphook after we had our little discussion about wands, particularly the Elder Wand.”  
     “Yeah, that’s right. I used it as a bargaining counter to get him to help us get into Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault at Gringotts. He grabbed it in the end and probably still has it.”  
     “I see. Well all I am saying is that the goblins have good cause to come after you for these reasons alone; and we haven’t mentioned the part you played in Riddle’s death and what they felt about that. We don’t really know how much contact he had with them, do we. On the question of the ministry’s fall, I agree with you, Hermione. If they were responsible, I cannot see them achieving this without help and guidance, even if they are armed to the teeth with my wands! Without knowing the facts, we are rather in the dark.”  
     “We are,” replied Hermione, “and that’s why I have come round to thinking we should go up to Hogwarts soon as possible and try and find out what’s going on. That’s the place most likely to provide answers. Whoever’s behind the goblins will have to deal with Hogwarts at some point. The trouble is, I don’t know how we are going to get there safely. Using Floo powder really is really too risky now, especially if the ministry has fallen.”  
     “Why is that,” asked Sally. “We’ve been using it on several occasions now and Peggy, Mr. Ollivander and Ron have just got here by it.”  
     “I think that up to now we’ve been incredibly lucky. The ministry doesn’t seem to have been aware that Peggy’s house is still connected to the Floo Network but whoever’s there now might know that we’ve used it and could block it or direct us to somewhere else where they can get hold of us.”  
     “I agree.” This came from Harry and Hermione looked at him gratefully, welcoming his support following their disagreements over Riddle. “That leaves apparating,” he went on, “but you can’t apparate into Hogwarts so we’d have to go to Hogsmeade and maybe see if Aberforth still has that portrait of Arianna; and that would be dangerous if the place is swarming with goblins!” He looked at Sam, Sally and Tom. “Sorry if this doesn’t make any sense to you.”  
     “That’s OK,” replied Sam. “I think we remember being told what apparating is and ...what’s the matter, Sally?”  
     “I heard something.” Sally had got to her feet and was staring around the room. “Voices, over there!” She pointed to the door at the back of the room. Harry and Ron ran over to it, putting their ears to the wooden panelling. They then came quickly back to the table.  
     “Goblins!” Ron looked frightened. “We heard 'em! They were speaking that peculiar language of theirs - Gobbledegook. What do we do now?”  
     “The front door!” Sally was on her feet. “The door out onto Charing Cross Road. I had a look out of it when we were last here. Come on.”  
They all followed Sally past the recess off to the right where she, Sam and Tom had been introduced to Hagrid by Ginny Weasley, in what seemed a lifetime ago now. She reached the door and put her ear to it before turning the key in the lock and opening it a fraction. The noise of traffic immediately hit them and a strong wind blew large raindrops into the room. She peered out cautiously and then withdrew her head, closed the door quickly and re-locked it.  
     “They’re there!” she whispered. “They’re on the other side of the street and nobody’s taking any notice of them because of the weather. It’s like in Steyning when I saw them. It’s very dark out there with a gale force wind and it’s raining heavily.”  
     “Looks like someone’s doing this deliberately, altering the local weather to give them cover.” Hermione looked at Harry. “Riddle could do this so who...” She didn’t finish what she was going to say because at that moment they all heard a loud banging coming from the back room. They rushed back, Tom helping Mr. Ollivander along. The banging was coming from the back door. Hermione, who still had Peggy’s wand in her hand, ran over to it as Harry called out to her.  
     “Hermione, stop! You can’t take them on. You could be killed. Come back.”  
     “What do you suggest we do? We’re trapped! The only alternative’s left to us are using Floo powder or apparating and both are dangerous, especially if the goblins are being assisted by someone who can control the local weather to give them cover. If he or they can do this, then...”  
     More banging and then a splintering sound caused Hermione to stop talking and run back to the table.  
     “We’ve been here before, haven’t we.” Tom tried to sound braver than he felt. “We were trapped in Grimmauld Place and we escaped, didn’t we! We can do it again!”As he was speaking, he was aware of a little voice in his head was telling him things were not the same, not the same at all. In Grimmauld Place, only Hermione, Harry and Ron were trapped. The goblins did not know of the presence of Sam, Sally and himself and the three of them were able to exploit this ignorance to rescue their friends. Now, they were all trapped and there really seemed no way out. This time there was no cavalry to ride to the rescue.


	12. Chapter 12

  
Monday 1st June

  
In which they make an unexpected discovery

    “Quick! Follow me!”  
     In the event, it was not Tom who had an answer to the predicament in which they found themselves but Harry. Following the banging on the door and the imminent arrival of wand-bearing goblins, he headed for the bar, beckoning to the others to follow him.  
     “I noticed two large cupboards at the back,” he explained as he lifted the heavy hinged part of the wooden counter to allow access to the serving area. “Maybe we can hide in them and they won’t think to look. Hermione, Ron, Mr. O., follow me. We’ll try the left hand cupboard. You others try the right.”  
     Two pairs of slatted cream-painted doors confronted them on the back wall. They looked like store cupboards for the food and drink needed to run a pub like the Leaky Cauldron. It crossed Hermione’s mind that if that’s what they were, then there might not be much room inside; and she was proved right because when Harry opened one of the two doors of the left-hand cupboard, they were confronted by slatted shelves stacked boxes and bottles. There wasn’t enough room to swing a cat, let alone hide four people. Their safety now depended on the right-hand cupboard. There was a key in the lock and when Sam turned it and opened one of the two doors she, Sally, Tom and Peggy saw that the cupboard was empty; in fact it wasn’t really a cupboard at all. Behind the doors was a narrow brick-lined passage with a stone flagged floor, sloping gently down into the darkness. For a few seconds they stared in disbelief before Sam called out to the others who were still standing helplessly in front of the left hand cupboard.  
     “Over here, quickly! Close your door so the goblins won’t suspect anything.”  
     Ron, Harry and Mr. Ollivander made their way swiftly over and Hermione closed the door before joining them. Sam ushered her in and then swiftly closed the door and locked it with the key she had thoughtfully taken from the outside.  
     “It’s not a cupboard at all!” Her voice came out of the semi-darkness, what light there was coming through the slats in the doors. “It’s a tunnel, a passageway! Come on!”  
     “I’ll go first, Sam. I’ve got the wand.” This came from Hermione.  
     “OK.”  
     They all felt their way carefully forward, using the wall as a guide. After a minute or so, the passage was suddenly illuminated by a bright light. It came from the tip of Peggy’s wand Hermione held in her hand.  
     “I didn’t want to risk any of the goblins seeing it until we had turned that corner just now,” she explained. “Where on earth does this go? What’s it for?”  
     “And why is the entrance disguised as cupboard?” added Harry.  
     “I may have an answer to that.” This came from Tom as they all made their way down the narrow passage at a greater speed now that they could see where they were going. “The Leakey Cauldron is an old pub isn’t it, but this tunnel seems relatively new.” He pointed to the brickwork. “These are not that old. They’re more recent. The cupboards look older so I’m guessing it was originally used to store food and drink like the left hand one but then this passage was built behind it and it stopped being a cupboard and became...well, a doorway.”  
    “That’s all very clever, mate, but more important than your history lesson is where the bleeding thing goes! We might be walking straight into a nest of goblins!”  
     “That’s possible, Ron” said Hermione, “But what’s the alternative? Do you want to go back?”  
     “No way!”  
     “There you go then! Anyway, I don’t think they know about this passage any more than we did; and Sam had the presence of mind to lock the cupboard door which will delay them if they do try and get in. If there had been more time, we might have been able to pile some things behind it to make it look just like a cupboard. Let’s just hope they don’t think to look inside.”  
     As she was speaking, Hermione was walking some distance ahead of the group, her voice echoing in the narrow passageway. After another minute or so, she stopped, and suddenly they were all plunged into total darkness.  
     “I think that’s a door up ahead,” she whispered over her shoulder. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” They heard her move forward and then the unmistakable sound of a key being turned in a lock.  
     “You know what all this reminds me of.” Tom jumped as an invisible Sam whispered in his ear. “It reminds me of when we were up at Chanctonbury Ring and that was scary.” He felt her take his hand and he gave it a reassuring squeeze, only letting go of it when suddenly there was light again. He and the others could see that Hermione had opened the door a fraction and was peering through the gap. She then turned round to face them and in the dim light they all saw her face displayed a mixture of relief and puzzlement.  
     “It’s OK,” she told them. “There’s no sign of any goblins but it’s the end of the tunnel and there’s what looks like a railway platform in there!”  
     “A platform? How can...what the...it can’t be...” Everyone was talking at once until Peggy told them to keep their voices down as they could not be sure there weren’t goblins around. Hermione pushed open the door and they all entered the space beyond; and they did indeed seem to be standing on a small platform. The first thoughts that came to Sam, Sally and Tom were that they had stumbled upon a London Underground station, but then they noticed that everything seemed to be in miniature. The platform on which they stood was only about twenty-five feet long and half the width of those in the Tube. The rail gauge was only couple of feet instead of the standard four feet, eight and a half inches and the two carriages - only now did they take in that they were there - resembled those you saw in theme parks. At the front and the rear of the train - if that’s what it was - were small cabs, both with an orange Perspex roof.  
     “It’s a narrow gauge railway!” said Tom excitedly.”It’s not part of the London Underground, that’s for sure! What’s it doing down here?”  
     “I think I know what it is.” This came from Sam and her positive and authoritative tone caused everyone to fall silent and look at her. “Yes, I think I know what it is,” she repeated, “but I don’t understand what it’s doing connected up to the Leakey Cauldron.”  
     “If you ask me, it looks like a railway built for goblins!” muttered Ron. “It’s their sort of size. Ah, there you are, Griphook. Eight one way tickets to Gringotts, please!”  
     “Stop being silly, Ron.” Hermione glared at him.  
     “Well it does, doesn’t it!”  
     “It’s nothing to do with goblins,” explained Sam. “I think it’s part of the underground Royal Mail delivery service.”  
     “What, your Muggle Royal Mail as in letters and parcels, stamps and postmen? Dad was interested in how that all worked!” Ron patted Pigwidgeon who was perched on his shoulder. “Owl mail’s much better, if you ask me!”  
     “I don’t know about that but I’m pretty certain we’re looking at what they call Rail Mail these days. They started building it in the early years of the 20th Century and it opened for business in 1927. And before you ask, don’t forget I live in London and we learnt about it in primary school. Because the roads were so clogged then and it took ages to deliver the post, they built this underground railway, linking up the major sorting offices.”  
     “So any minute now, another little train is going to come along, full of parcels and letters and crash into this one!”  
     “No it’s not, Tom, look.” Sam pointed to where the track ended close to the door through which they all entered the platform. “It’s a dead end. It looks as though this part of the track has been blocked off. Maybe we are looking at a disused part of the network that the Leaky Cauldron has taken over and is using for something.”  
     “Ah...erm.” Mr. Olivander cleared his throat. “May I suggest we postpone this conversation about the origins and uses of this railway line and see if it takes us somewhere safer than our present surroundings might be. I agree with Peggy and Miss Gr...with Hermione. I do not think the goblins know about this but we cannot be certain or too careful.”  
     “Well said, Mr. O.!” exclaimed Harry. He turned to Sam. “As our resident expert on the London postal service, do you know how to get it going?”  
     “I’m certainly not an expert, Harry, and in any case I think the system is supposed to be driverless. I’ll go and have a look.” Sam moved to the front of the train, ducked down and climbed into the small cab which formed part of the front carriage. A moment later her head re-appeared.  
     “It looks as if it’s been modified to take a driver,” she called out. “There’s a seat with a cushion on it and a red-painted metal rod sticking out of the ledge in front of it. There’s also what looks like a light switch to the right of the rod. I’ll see what happens if I move the rod?”  
     “No, wait, Sam,” replied Hermione quickly. “Let’s all get on board first in case you start it going and can’t stop it. We’d all be stuck on the platform!”  
     Everyone agreed this was sound advice so Mr. Ollivander, Hermione, Ron and Harry climbed into the first carriage making sure they didn’t bang their heads on the low curved Perspex roof. Sam and Sally and Peggy climbed into the rear carriage. There were no seats in either of them so they all sat on the floor. It was not very comfortable. When they were settled, Hermione called out to Sam.  
     “OK, Sam, we’re in. See if you can get us moving!”  
     Sam settled herself on the cushion on the seat and looked again at the shelf in front of her. There were none of the dials and levers she would have expected to see. There was only the metal rod sticking out of it and the switch to its right. She decided to leave the switch for the moment and took hold of the rod and tentatively moved it towards her. Nothing happened but there was a grating noise. She quickly returned the rod to its original position and then heard Tom calling out from the rear carriage.  
     “I’m not sure but I think you just engaged the brakes. How did you move the rod?”  
     “Towards me. I’ve now put it back to where it was.”  
     “OK, move it forward a little and see what happens.”  
     Sam took hold of the rod again and moved it tentatively away from her. There was a metallic sound somewhere beneath her feet and the train began to move slowly forward, accompanied by cheers and clapping coming from the carriages. Encouraged, she pulled the rod towards her and the train slowed and stopped. She moved it to its central position, put her head out of the door and called out.  
     “I think I’ve got it! To start the train you push the rod forward. To stop it you pull it back and that engages the break. Like a car gear box, it seems to have neutral position. I don’t think there’s a reverse unless the switch to the right of the rod has something to do with it. Hold tight, I’m going to see what happens.” Sam took a deep breath and clicked the switch. There was no sound or movement but a bright light illuminated the track in front of her. Once again, she moved the rod forward and, as before, the train started to move. More confident now, Sam pushed the rod a little further away from her. The train quickly picked up speed so she eased the rod back and the train slowed to a speed with which she was comfortable. She heard someone clapping from the carriages and guessed it was Tom. How patronising she thought to herself, and then modified her opinion. He was probably trying to keep everyone’s spirits up. Yes, for a boy he wasn’t that bad, not that bad at all. In fact she was quite fond of him, really. She smiled to herself and pushed the rod a little further forward. The train picked up speed as it rattled along into the darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

  
Monday 1st June

In which they arrive at a totally unexpected destination

      If they had thought about it, none of the passengers on that little train would have been able tell where they were or to estimate how long their journey took. There were none of the usual indicators to assist them. They passed no other stations, there were no announcements and no officials on the train came to check their tickets and answer questions; and, of course, they did not know their destination.  
      After an indeterminate amount of time, the train suddenly began to slow down. Hermione was the first on her feet and putting her head out of the carriage. She saw, a hundred yards or so ahead, a platform very similar to the one from which they had departed. Sam had spotted the station a moment or two before and as she was not sure of the speed of the train, decided to play it safe and slow down well in advance. In a very short time she brought the train to a halt alongside the station, a couple of yards in front of some buffers behind which was a solid brick wall. She heaved a sigh of relief and put her head out of the cab. Other heads were now appearing out of the two carriages and it wasn’t long before they all stood on the platform. Tom went up to Sam and patted her on the back.  
     “Well done, Sam! Is there no end to your talents!”  
     “It wasn’t very difficult, Tom. “Anyone could have driven it, even you!”  
     “So kind. Seriously, you were brilliant, wasn’t she Sally?”  
     “She was, but the big question is...where are we?”  
     Following the relief at arriving safely and seeing no sign of any goblins, everyone now had a good look around. The station did indeed resemble the one they had left. It was the same size but again offered no clues as to where it was. Sam had turned off the train’s headlights so there was only Peggy’s wand to provide illumination. Tom left the others and wandered up the platform and into the darkness. After a short while, the others heard him calling.  
     “I think I’ve found the way out.”  
     They all followed Hermione over to where Tom was standing by the rear carriage. He was pointing at a wooden door in the wall opposite.  
     “This must be the way out,” he explained. “It’s the only door on this side and it doesn’t make any sense to have to cross the line to exit. You’re our resident door opener, Hermione. Give it a go.”  
     As before, there was a key in the lock. Hermione stepped forward and turned it before opening the door a fraction. Cautiously, she peered through the crack before opening the door wide and walking forward. The others followed her and found themselves once again in a narrow passage identical to the one they had found the other side of cupboard door in the Leakey Cauldron. The only difference here was that the floor sloped gently upwards not downwards. A short walk brought them to a windowless room in which, to their left, were shelves stacked with boxes and bottles similar to the ones they had seen in the left-hand cupboard in The Leaky Cauldron. Against the opposite wall stood what looked like a couple of empty trolleys. They were taller and narrower than the ones found in households. Sam, Sally and Tom looked at them and thought they looked familiar but couldn’t place them. It was Ron who came up with the answer.  
     “I know what they are! There’s a lady who goes up and down the Hogwarts Express with one of ’em, selling food and drinks and stuff! He looked round at the others. “Do you think that’s where we are? Do you think we’re at King’s Cross station and that door...” he pointed to the one in the opposite wall, “...leads onto platform nine and three-quarters?”  
     “I agree with you about the trolleys, Ron,” said Sam, “but our Muggle trains also have narrow trolleys like that. We could very well have arrived at a station but not necessarily King’s Cross; it could be - I don’t know - Waterloo or London Bridge.”  
     “Yeah but why would the Leakey Cauldron be connected up to them. That doesn’t make any sense. But connected up to King’s Cross, that does!”  
     “Ron’s got a point, he really has!” This came from an excited-sounding Hermione. “We know there’s a lady on the Hogwarts Express who wheels a trolley just like one of those up and down the carriages selling food and drink. Harry, when we first met, you bought virtually everything off it! Do you remember?”  
     “Yeah, I do!” Harry looked at Ron. “We stuffed our faces, didn’t we?”  
     “Yeah, I didn’t half feel sick!” Ron turned to Hermione. “So what you’re saying is that Tom, landlord of the Leakey Cauldron supplies food and drink to the Hogwarts Express.”  
     “Exactly! He uses the passages and the little railway to get stuff from the pub to the train. Maybe the underground passage was built when Riddle was around and it was a safest way to do it.” Hermione looked at Tom. “That would explain why the tunnel seemed fairly recent.”  
     "Well, there’s only one way to find out,” put in Peggy, “And I think Garrick should do the honours this time!”  
     Everyone agreed and they all stood to one side as a nervous-looking Mr. Ollivander stepped forward and with a brief backward glance, turned the key in the lock. He then turned the doorknob and, as Hermione had done on two occasions, opened the door a fraction.  
     “Well,” he said, peering through the crack, “In that much-used Muggle phrase, the good news is that there is no sign of any goblins. The bad news is...well there’s no bad news really, so the second bit of good news is that we do indeed seem to have arrived at a station. Which one it is, I cannot tell but I think it is safe to proceed.” He pushed the door wide open and he and Peggy stepped over the threshold followed closely by the others.  
They did indeed find themselves on a station. The platform they saw before them was not of the miniature sort they had just experienced. Everything was the conventional size. The rails were the standard gauge although Tom noticed the sleepers they rested on were made of wood rather than pre-stressed concrete which was more usual these days. Weeds were growing amongst the ballast stones which, along with the wooden sleepers, made him think they had stumbled upon a disused part of the rail network.  This thought was further supported by the fact that there was no one around. Platforms, in his experience, were swarming with people. This one was deserted. He looked up from the track and his eye travelled to where Peggy, Mr. Ollivander, Hermione, Harry, Ron, Sam and Sally were standing. Above their heads was a sign suspended from an iron girder which made up part of the roof support. It said simply ‘9¾’. He walked over to join the others and pointed to the sign. They all looked up at it for a few moments without speaking. It was Hermione who broke the silence.  
     “Well, we seem to have arrived at the one place which might have allowed us to get to Hogwarts safely. If the Hogwarts Express had been here we might have been able to find the driver and asked him to take us there. But as you can see, there’s no Hogwarts Express and no sign of the driver so I really don’t see...”  
     “I’ve just had a thought!” This came from an excited-sounding Sally. “We could get off this platform and find the right one to take us up to Letchworth. We should be safe at in parents’ house and I’m sure they’d put us all up for a bit. The goblins know about Grimmauld Place, Steyning and the Leaky Cauldron so I agree they wouldn’t be safe places to go but they don’t know about my parents’ house so I was thinking...”  
As she was speaking, Sally was looking around for the barrier which marked the usual way for passengers to get on and off a platform. She couldn’t see one. She turned to Hermione.  
     “Where’s the way out?”  
     “Over there, through there.” Hermione pointed to a bit of wall that protruded from the brickwork on either side of it. There was no sign of a door.  
     “I can’t see how...”  
     “When I said through, Sally, I meant it literally! You run at the wall and just, well, go through it. It sort of dissolves in front of you. That’s how you get on to the platform as well. From the other side and between platforms 9 and 10, there’s a similar bit of wall and when no one’s looking, you just run at it and come out here onto Platform 9¾.”  
     Hermione stopped speaking and a frown appeared on her face. “At least that’s how it works at the beginning and end of terms when the Hogwarts Express is here to take students to and from the school. But I’m not sure it works at other times. Any volunteers to throw themselves at a brick wall to see if we can get through?”  
     There was a moment’s silence as they all took in what Hermione was suggesting.  
     “I don’t think we can ask Peggy or Mr. O. to risk knocking their teeth out, can we!” Ron paused and seemed to be considering something. Peggy grinned at him and poked his arm.  
     “I know what’s going through your mind, you rascal! You’re thinking Garrick and I don’t have many teeth left to knock and don’t want to lose the few we have left! Am I right?”  
     “No, ’course not, Peggy! ‘course I wasn’t thinking that!” Ron was speaking far too fast and his face had turned a red. “I’m sure you and Mr. O. have plenty of teeth, all your own and...I’ll...um...won’t be a moment.” Ron started walking hastily in the direction of the door that led into the store room they had been through to get onto the platform.  
     “Oh dear, I’ve upset him.” Peggy stood up. “I’ll go and apologise.”  
     “No need. Knowing Ron, you were probably right! Anyway look, here he comes.” Hermione pointed towards the storeroom door where Ron re-appeared, wheeling one of the narrow trolleys they had seen in there.  
     “I’ll do it,” he said as he approached them. He looked at Sam, Sally and Tom. “When we got to King’s Cross to go up to Hogwarts,” he explained, “we always had quite a bit of luggage with us so we used the station trolleys and wheeled them at the wall. I thought if I used one of these, then if it doesn’t work I’ll still have my teeth!” Ron grinned sheepishly at Peggy and Mr. Ollivander.  
     “That’s really clever, Ron.” This came from Harry. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”  
     “Genius, mate. Not many of us about.”  
     “Ron, can we just see if we can get off this platform, please? Go on, give it a go but don’t hurt yourself.”  
     “Hey Harry, she cares! Hermy cares!”  
    “’course she does. Watch your teeth.”  
     Ron wheeled the trolley over to the wall Hermione had pointed out to Sally and lined the trolley up in front of him. He looked round at the others before running full tilt at the wall. There was a bang as the trolley hit the wall and Ron’s chest made contact with the handle, winding him slightly. When he had recovered, he made his way slowly over to the others. He looked at them all in turn before shaking his head sadly from side to side.  
Hermione sat down heavily on one of the seats along the wall. Peggy and Mr. Ollivander joined her and the others gathered round. No one had anything further to say. They were standing on a deserted platform with no train. There seemed to be no way forward and no way back. They were being pursued by an army of goblins armed with wands and behind it there might or might not lurk an unseen and sinister figure with an unknown and possibly sinister agenda. They all felt overwhelmed and defeated.

End of Part 2


End file.
